


v ' - > .i ' ' ~ Sv - •■- v V. ' V - ?- .\."v v ^ < •- , - .""•• 





'lass fe) t 



Z CH-y 



Honk /7^ 



Hml£- 



PRESENTED i'.Y 




a. F\ MUSSED. 



Localisms; Rhymes; 



Song's. 



NEWBURG, WINTERPORT. 



BY 



J. F=. HUSSEY. 

1903. 



"i^T^' "^ * 



THE ADVERTISER JOB PRINT, 
WINTERPORT. 



.H4 



To the Reader: — 

I hope no apology is necessary for intruding 
this little volume of Localisms upon my old friends and neigh- 
bors, and perhaps not necessary to state that none of the 
pieces contained were written for purposes of publication but 
for the lyceum, the Grange, for temperance societies and 
other societies, usually by request. Some of the more lengthy 
were written for my own amusement during leisure, and I 
may safely presume that the pleasure of writing them will 
far exceed that gained by any by its perusal. 

In some of the older pieces, written in the sixties and 
seventies, I have used fictitious names where a substitute 
would answer, smoothed some places too rough for publica- 
tion and discarded others. Some of the less pronounced I 
have inserted, not on account of their merits but for the 
mutual associations of our earlier experiences and vicissi- 
tudes in our life work, the historical part, in a measure, I 
might say of the years long gone by in my native town. 

As the shadows lengthen these little reminders lose much 
of their force and with it comes a thought of sadness in view 
of the many who have passed on. 

I fondly hope this unpretentious little volume will not be 
without interest to its small circle of readers; and that its 
influence for good will not be out-weighed by the bad influ- 
ence engendered by its pessimism. 

Winterport, Me., Aug., 1003. 



%L- 



3J, 71 1 1\^eJu 



CO 






CONTENTS. 

Page. 

To my wife, 4 

Baby King and Mother Queen, 4 

School-House in Dist. No, 11, 6 

Flowers 7 

Acrostic, 8 

On death of Mrs. James Freeman, 9 

Acrostic, 9 

In memory of Mrs. Simonton, 12 

On death of Frances E. Willard, 12 

Birth of Hon. Neal Dow, ■ 13 

Death of Hon. Neal Dow, 15 

Acrostic, .... • 16 

Temperance, 17 

Intemperance, 19 

Should Women Vote, 20 

Good Templars, 21 

Autumn, 22 

Closing of the Nineteenth Century, 24 

Birds, ... 26 

County Council, Grange, 27 

Give and Bequeath, 30 

Little Things, 31 

The Fiddle, 32 

The Bird That Won't Sing, 34 

Acrostic, • 34 

Uncle Steve, 35 

The New Stove 36 



Page. 

Newly Married, 36 

The Silver Grays, 37 

Acrostic, 42 

Wedding Bells, . 43 

Forty-four Years a Step-mother, 44 

Acrostic, 44 

Sixtieth Anniversary; Andrew Fernald, .... 45 

Confession, ...... 48 

Dogdays, ... 49 

Acrostic, . 50 

Not as it used to be, 51 

The Ice Goes Out, 52 

Town Meeting, • 54 

Wheel Girls Soliloquy, 57 

Flirtation and Flowers, ....... 59 

Acrostic, 61 

Burlesque on Man, 62 

Camp Etna, 70 

Prosy and Poesy 78 

Story of the Shoes 81 

The Best Way 85 

A Brief Definition of Poetry, 86 

SONGS. 

Dedication of Masonic Hall, 91 

The Night Shades, 92 

Going Home with the Girls, 92 

Free High School, 93 

The Races, . . 94 

Fast Horses and People, 95 

Hobbies, . 96 

Step into the Wagon, 98 

Oil up the Wagon, 99 

Quarter's Dues, 100 

Grange Song, 101 



Page. 

Attention on the Wagon, 102 

Grange Installation, 103 

Looking, ..... . . 105 

Elder Berry, ' 105 

Temperance, 107 

Politicians, ... 108 

Temperance Banner, 109 

After the Fail, .... . 112 

Hose Companies, 113 

Got it in their Eye, 116 

The Waldo County Fair, 117 

Since the Band went down, 118 

The Widow and the Boys, ..... 119 

Kindergarten, ... 120 

Because it was Pure, 124 

I Live in Easy Lane, 124 

The Coal Fire, 126 

A Day Dream of Childhood, 127 

ADVERTISEMENTS. 

Tea Advertisement, 129 

Town Election, 130 

Mary's Beau, ... 131 

Water Works, 133 

Interrupted Courtship, 134 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



TO MY WIFE. 

Thou partner of my early strife, 
Thou sharer of my pleasures rife; 
How blank would be the leaf of life 
Were I without thy favor. 

Thy joy I find my greatest joy, 
And pleasure finds a rich employ; 
For self adds not her base alloy 
Where nature hath united. 

To wish you joy I can t refrain 
Is but to wish myself the same; 
Whatever joy I think to name 
Rebounds upon the giver. 

That death might spare us each alike, 
Tho 1 short thy days or dim my sight; 
That we might join in spirit flight 
And share our fate together. 

BABY KING AND MOTHER QUEEN. 

Bright eyed cherub do I see, 

Bubbling o'er with life and glee, 
All so great and yet so wee? 

And the mother, did she say 
Little tot had gone astray, 

That from heaven he'd run away? 
Echo answers, did she say 

That from heaven he'd run away? 

Roguish eye of mellow blue, 

Borrowed while he's passing through 
From the skies, its deepest hue; 

Did the mother's fond caress, 
Many hundred, more or less, 

Closer to her bosom press? 
Echo answers, fond caress 

Closer to her bosom press. 

Waving ringlets, golden hair 

Dancing in the wanton air; 
Sought the sun, a place so fair, 

Lingered as a time to spare, 
Did the tangle prove a snare, 

Caught and hold the sunbeams there? 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



Echo answers, prove a snare, 

Caught and held the sunbeams there. 

Ruddy cheeks in healthful glow, 

Sweet they are the ladies know; 
Did the sunshine make them so? 

Lingered eager for the pose, 
Did the sunset's twilight close 

Paint his cheeks to match the rose? 
Echo answers, twilight's close 

Paint his cheeks to match the rose. 

Azure sky and noonday's glare, 

Sunset blush hath made thee fair; 
Can the heavens forever spare? 

Can a loving arm refrain? 
Mother, hug him without blame, 

Since the heavens have such a claim 
Echo answers, without blame 

Since the heavens have such a claim. 

Cherub, have you any grief? 

Mother's touch will give relief; 
Bitter tears will be but brief; 

Sorrow, like a summer dream, 
Sunshine with the showers between: 

Baby king and mother queen. 
Echo answers, showers between, 

Baby king and mother queen. 

When to sleep in mother's fold, 

Little prayer is sweetly told, 
Pillowed head on curls of gold: 

Closed the mimic skies to view; 
Rosebud cheeks to catch the dew: 

Mother's kisses, none more true. 
Echo answers, catch the dew : 

Mother's kisses, none more true. 

Powers of earth make smooth the way 
Lest his foot should go astray; 

Lest our joy should meet dismay: 
Guide for good the little son 

Lest the deepest sorrow come; 
Fleet the step, the race begun. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



Echo answers, sorrow come 

Fleet the step, the race begun. 
Whence the mother's love supreme? 

Stronger than the mountain stream; 
Pure as shines the sunlight gleam; 

Did the cherub in his flight 
Bring from heaven its love and light 

All to make the earth more bright? 
Echo answers, love and light 

All to make the earth more bright. 

SCHOOL-HOUSE IN DIST. NO, 11, NOV. 1897. 
The weather fine and on a drive one day; 
I took my course along the smooth highway: 
Not far from town I struck a quiet wood, 
Where years before a barefoot boy I stood. 
Half hid behind the tangled bush and vine, 
Mid balsam tree and shade of lofty pine, 
A school-house stood, what had been left to stand, 
Where wanton youth had laid a reckless hand; 
Two doors smashed in, a window wholly out: 
A ghostly look gloamed all the place about; 
So weird the scene my horse began to shy, 
And I got out, I could not get him by: 
And. with a rope I hitched him to a pine. 
Where cones I'd gathered in my boyhood time: 
The pine leaf piped a sadly gruesome song; 
A goblin's requiem for my schoolmates gone. 
Through open door with sad and solemn tread. 
Where oft in childhood by the hand I's led; 
Those seats now vacant and in wrecks despair: 
My thoughts grew heavy and my heartstrings tear; 
There stands the rostrum, where, with weighty yoke 
And, effort great, my little piece I spoke; 
Those seats now marred, Pv'e filled, row after row 
Up to the back, commencing with the low: 
None struggle now to lay an early claim 
To favorite seat, and none would take the same: 
How changed the scene, how deeply sad the sight. 
Where winds assail and bats wing through by night. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



And all the past seems like a hollow dream, 

And inspirations press to swell the theme. 

Where now the students that once trod these halls? 

And where the voice that echoed to these walls? 

Some went to teach; some earned a worthy name; 
Some hoarded wealth; some gained a nation's fame; 
Some went abroad; some plowed the ocean deep, 
And scores on scores in scores of graveyards sleep. 

But, mark you friends, where e*er >uccess befell, 
The schoolroom laid foundation, first and welt: 
Where life run easy with a constant flow, 
Th^n praise your schools for they have made it so. 

Had I the books my youth had pondered o'er, 
Though, sadly soiled and leaflets somewhat tore, 
They should not quickly for old rags be sold, 
I'd hold them choice as misers hoard their gold. 

These dear old walls, how much I owe to thee; 
Once my restraint, but later made me free: 
Yet not all thine shall be the meed of praise, 
A mother's love has tempered all my days. 

Farewell old house, though now of little use, 
For all thy worth thou gettest but abuse: 
At those dear walls 'twould not be mine to send 
A club or missile at so good a friend. 



FLOWERS. 

Behold the beauty of the flowers so fair 
That give their sweetness to the spicy air; 

From jeweled cup the frugal bees partake 
And art here revels in its high estate. 

Arrayed in splendor more than art of man, 

The poor, the rich, the weak, the learned ma t y scsui ; 

And youth and age, the sinful and the good, 
Admire the blossoms of the field and wood. 

Of charms unconscious, and unknown to sigh, 

They freely smile on every passer-by; 
Though rudely crushed no malice they assume 

But give more freely of their sweet perfume. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



Oh, erring man ! can we no lesson take 
Of these pure blossoms of the field and lake? 

Sky tinted beauties, pointing us above, 
Do they not tell us plainly, God is love? 

Indeed how desolate this world of ours 
If summer fields were destitute of flowers, 

Where childhood roams with early birds of spring 
And song and laughter with their garlands bring. 

Sweet flowers! though wonders of a nature's art 
That finds a place in every human heart; 

In richest mansion or in lowly cot, 

Where will we go, indeed, where flowers are not? 

In festive hall they mingle with the gay, 

Or soothe the bedside where the sick one lay, 

Or bank the walls to decorate the great, 
As steps the private to the halls of state, 

Or deck the bride upon her wedding day, 
Or friendly gift in button-hole bouquet, 

In social circle, then how blank and bare 

Would be the walls if flowers were lacking there. 

In marble death when friends are laid away 

Then flowers, the choicest, deck their mortal clay; 

And o'er the mound that marks the sleeper's face 
A wreath of flowers will show their resting place. 

Sweet flowers! more royal than the art of man 
We'll always love and never tire to scan; 

Divinely formed to bless this land of ours; 
Would all our lives were beautiful as flowers. 



ACROSTIC. 

May thy bright joyous morning shine far into day 
And the fragrance of youth bubble over thy way; 

Unclouded thy noonday, bright as a June day; 
Delight cheer your pathway, nor sorrow attend 

Ever's the wish of truly, your friend. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS. JAMES FREEMAN. 
OCTOBER 1897. 
The fields declare the dirge of parting year; 

And forests yield their foliage to the breeze, 
The swollen streams give cadence to the ear: 
The reapers gathered in their golden sheaves; 

The wild flowers pale beneath the biting frost, 
And o'er the mead a rustic carpet spread, 

The sun bows low, reminder of our lost; 
All nature pays a homage to the dead. 

A sister sleeps beneath anew made mound; 

In life the reflex of the summer's sun, 
Whose rays gave luster to her friends profound 

And sadness deep when all her work was done. 

(lone from our band the first White Ribboned bow; 

The Autumn reaper claimed her as his own, 
And memories sweetest all that we may know, 

In compensation for the loved one gone. 

A willing worker where her calling came; 

In church or temperance, in her quiet way, 
As if her heart was hallowed by the name 

Of Union for a purer world today. 

Let choicest flowers blossom o'er her mould; 

Emblems of the sweetness of her worth; 
Emblems which a future may unfold; 

Emblems of the tender ties of earth. 



ACROSTIC. 

Leave me a nook in memory's path 
Among the cliffs that mark your way; 
"Mid summer's smiles or winter's wrath; 
O'er sunny meads, or blackened day; 
Remember me when no more near; 
Removed too far for present cheer; 
Engaged in friendship still more dear; 
Leave me a nook in memory's bier. 



Id 





& 



c 
o 

a 

P3 



<1 

as 




LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 12 

REFLECTIONS IN MEMORY OF 

MRS. HARRIET J. SIMONTON. 
When the lamp of life is shattered 

Shall the light in its dust lie dead? 
When the rainbow cloud is scattered 

Shall no lingering ray be shed? 
When the last kind word is spoken 

And the harp strings strained and broken, 
Is there no lingering token 

Of the music that is stilled, 
On the heart strings that it trilled? 

Ere her pure sweet life was ended, 

Kindly deeds and nobly done, 
Then our hearts were strongly blended 

And their throbbings were as one: 
Though the earth seems dark and drearer, 

Yet the glowing stars draw nearer, 
For to us none could be dearer, 

For the lesson that she taught us, 
For th- sweetness that she brought us. 

There were many friends who knew her 

And their praise in bounty give; 
Deep and long their hearts will rue her, 

Though she's dead her precepts live; 
And in heaven we hope to meet her, 

Where the meadows breathe the sweeter 
For the sickle of the reaper; 

In the harvest of the kingdom; 
Where the angels hold dominion. 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF FRANCES E. WILLARD. 
March 3, 1898. 

The earth is wrapped in snowy garments white, 
And winter's blasts sweep over hill and dell, 

The sun bows low and takes her Southern flight, 
A sadly parting and a brief farewell. 

And yet beneath the crystal carpet snow 
All latent life awaits the springs return, 

And sun and rain in fullest bloom, we know, 
Will clothe our hillsides as if death to spurn. 



13 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Oh, shade of Frances! had our weeping power 
To bring to life within our fold again, 

What warmth of heart and copiousness of shower 
O'er every land and many a parching plain. 

To say we loved were weak, for we adored: - 
To light a wrong thy potent arm we need; 

Thy music voice more piercing than the sword: 
Thy loving heart now still, and ours will bleed. 

Our lives are better that we once have known; 

The world is better that thou troddest here; 
Thy cause we'll nurture as if "'twere our own; 

Erstwhile we weep, and hold thy memory dear, 

Though seasons pass and winter broods decay, 
So long as woe is made another's gain, 

Miss Willard's life will champion all her day, 
And ceaseless spring will blossom o'er her fame. 



IN MEMORY OF BIRTH OF HON. NEAL DOW. 
In early spring we saw the leaves unfold, 

And spring to life from out the blackened mold, 
And wondered that a flower surpassing fair, 

From bed so lowly could have slumbered there. 

We saw the fruit push out from vine and tree, 
And hill and vale clothed in rich scenery, 

Clouds watered them, and warmed the glowing sun, 
And life, from death in varied beauty sprung. 

The birds sang sweet and trilled the mellow air; 

Happy their lot for all around seemed fair; 
Oh! man, take heart from all the scenes of life, 

And learn the beauties of a useful strife. 

How fair the land! yet 'twas not always fair; 

Woods must be felled and timber lands laid bare; 
Roads must be made and savage beasts be slain, 

Before the fields could yield the yellow grain. 

(io forth, thou reapers and your garners fill. 

But spare the substance from dread death's distill; 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 14 

And fruits and berries grown for good intent, 
Oh! spare their sweetness from a foul ferment. 

Have empires failen with a slow decay? 

And nations slumbered 'neath a tyrant's sway? 
Have crimes, unnumbered, stained our fairest land? 

And homes made wreck without a saving hand? 

Then look you far with fair impartial eye, 
To see the cause the whole may underlie; 

The power of moral force, or from its lack, 
That has existed from all ages back. 

We scarce could say that morals have full force, 
When rum runs riot in its freest course; 

And no scheme permanent comes to my mind 
That did not have a moral force behind. 

Ripe was the time and brighter shone the morn; 

More fair the heavens became when Dow was born, 
For his the arm and moral force combined 

To sow rebellion in the moral mind. 

When cust.im sanction with a genteel rage; 

And rooted evil marks an epoch's age; 
And statesman, rulers, princes, king and queen, 

And lesser lights join in the wretched scene, 

And habit cankers all the world's domain, 

'Till misery curdles in a pulseless vein, 
'Tis then we need our wisest, staunchest men 

And if not then, Oh! human folly when? 

The time was then, the time is with us now, 
And, coming forth, we see the hand of Dow; 

His blade was whet to make the forests thin; 
His arm was strong to thrust the sickle in; 

His plow ran deep, and thickly did he sow; 

And faith was strong that some, at least, would grow; 
Not all his toil from rise to set of sun; 

Xor ever slackened in his work begun; 

And naught deterred him in his moral might, 
He'd face a kingdom if he knew he's right: 

A patient tiller and his blows were hurled 
At social evils for a better world. 



15 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

And years on years his labors did not stop, 
'Till he had raised a prohibition crop; 

And scattered seed for sister states to try: 
And o'er the wave the little seedlings fly. 

The earth brings forth the fruitage grandly well: 
Wide flush the fields far over hill and dell; 

And nations tribute pay to Dow, the cause 
Of prohibition through the temperance laws. 

The seed you sow that also will you reap; — 
This Neai Dow seed is good to raise and keep: 

'Twill yield a thousand fold for every grain: 
If others raise, the more your own will gain; 

Did Atlas lift the world? So Dow the State; 

And Maine with all its legislative weight, 
And weight of want and woe and crime beside 

Was poised for justice on the hero's side. 



THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF 

HON. NEAL DOW. 
Majestic oak, pride of thy native land; 

Thy roots took deep into our needy earth; 
Thy branches spanning wide and nobly grand; 
All nations tribute pay unto thy worth. 

Rocked by the storms of many a frosty year, 

With upward course thou didst outride them all; 

Nor ever quavered with a coward's fear, 
Or shrank from justice in a righteous call. 

Thine age was passed the age of common man; 

Thy worthy deeds outnumbered by the score; 
And temperance lost her staunchest champion, 

When, all too soon, we learned thou wert no more. 

Then scatter flowers around the fallen oak, 
[n memory of the love we bear for him, 

In token of his great immortal work. 
The symbol of his kindness to his kin. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 16 

As flowers give incense to the changing breeze, 

And constant beauty to admiring gaze, 
So good deeds live like age of trees 

To bless mankind beyond the count of days. 

Thou heaven-born flowers, rich painted by the sun. 

And watered by the weeping clouds and dew, 
Pure as the loving source from which they sprung, 

Teach us thine art to win, thy power to do. 

All cannot be, like Dow, the stalwart oak, 
For some the clinging vine, or tender flower; 

And power of numbers stays the tempest stroke; 
Strong public sentiment preserves our bowers. 

When fails the law in giving just decrees, 
And soft persuasion does no fruitage bear, 

"Tis then White Ribbons quicken in the breeze, 
And all the world the greater interest share. 



ACROSTIC. 

Heware of men, fast, truthless men; 
Entrust to none too soon; 
Let judgment play with greatest sway 
Lest sorrow be thy doom. 

Because thy kind and loving heart 
A hasty step may take; 
Remember well thy zealous mind, 
Trust more to reason's make. 
Let this not seem to thee reproof; 
Enlisted as thy friend, 
These words I've twisted to your name, 
Trust they may not offend. 



17 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 

TEMPERANCE. 

To drink or not to drink: — thats the question, 
And for himself must every man decide; 
Although a host of others look inquiring on, 
And watch the first faint symptoms, step by step, 
As shapes his upward or his downward course. 

A living panorama stretches out 

Before our daily gaze, where all may see 

The living actors in the world's great drama. 

We need not ask of books or those abroad 

To tell us that intemperance is a path 

Of downward tread, leaoing the young to 

Premature decay; blasting their young hopes, 

Undermining health, incapacitating 

Them for business, losing the confidence 

Of others, bringing sorrow to his friends, 

A cloud to lovers of the human race, 

Who wish for happiness for every human heart. 

To drink or not to drink, where many think 
To swim but sink. Why should man boast? 
Is he a stronger than the host gone on 
Before? has he more friends than they to check 
His downward way? has he a stronger will 
Than all the mighty heroes gone to fill 
A drunkard's grave, where bitter tears distill 
And wives and babes have felt the chilly hand of 
Want more piteous than the grave itself. 

To drink or not to drink, where fortunes sink 

Enough to flood the world from brink to brink, 

Clothe, shelter, feed and furnish every need 

To all the poor. Oh! what a kindly deed 

Could all the worthy poor receive the aid 

Where hearts now bleed, how happy were they made. 

Who hath a spark of manhood in his veins 
Would he pour out this liquid hell for gains? 
Should this fair earth be blasted with the curse 
Glad homes made wreck, to pestilence a nurse? 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 18 

Is there more pleasure in a life of shame 

Where there is all to lose and naught to gain? 

Where wealth and health go down and friends ignore, 

A stranded wreck upon a dreary shore? 

Ignore the pleasant path that health may give, 

Where all have title if they rightly live; 

Where ruddy ch^ek and happiness combine 

To rid the worid of more than half its crime. 

Where lies the beauty and wherein the joy 

To be a victim to the arch decoy; 

Oh! do not take him closely to your heart, 

For he"s an arrow with the murderer s art; 

A very Sampson and his thousands slay, 

And heaps on heaps, the innocent his prey: — 

And sadness moves our very heart of clay, 

To view the wrecks made o'er the world's highway; 

All nature weeps, a pall hangs o'er the sky, 

Shall human voice lack speech and pen go dry? 

How sadly strange that man of crowning art, 
With wisdom's genius and a human heart, 
Who knows the laws that regulate the health, 
Should take a course to desecrate himself. 

How sadly strange that man should roil the stream 
And drink the dregs where death is plainly seen; 
The fount of health destroy, impede the flow, 
Polute the blood; and wreck in worldly woe! 

Should man of noble birth have such be said, 
His home a step beneath where angels tr^ad, 
Made in God s image and to heaven bound;— 
Where do we stand if not on holy ground? 

High as the heavens and wide the vaulting blue, 
So vast the Held that opens into view, 
White Ribboned hosts their banners float in air. 
Myriad the hands the silken banners bear, 

Wrapped in their folds the breeze brings into view, 
In letters plain the W. C. T. U. 
The armored host, with woman's love and zeal, 
United front and temperance is the deal: — 



19 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Thrice blest the foes that fall to them a prey; 
Their captured throng they feed and do not slay; 
Love is their sword, love also is their shield; 
'Gainst willing foe the victor wins the field. 

Wide wave their banners and their ribbons white 
Bright galaxy of the boisterous night: 
May silver lining show her quick display 
Before thy sun, proud monarch of the day. 



INTEMPERANCE. 
The broadest evil of the land, if fitting it might seem 
To one unskilled to pen a thought, intemperance were my 

theme. 
Not he alone with flowing cup, rum's poison in his vein, 
Though death be constant on his track, not his alone the 

shame. 
Though rum may blast the fairest mind, spread ruin o'er our 

land; 
Bring crimes and blight and poverty widespread on every 

hand ; 
Yet not alone would we impugn to excessive drink the name 
Intemperance, for the word has more and broader claim. 
While temperance grants a moderate use of things well meant 

to bless, 
Intemperance as plain implies a using to excess. 
The one who labors to excess is intemperate, we would say; 
And warnings of the fact will come at no far distant day, 
By lameness pains or some disease which may come slow but 

surely 
And if the mortal coil withstand, old age comes prematurely. 
The tongue also needs much restraint to quell the burning 

flame, 
When maddened passion leads to broils, to sorrow, sin and 

shame; 
And in the lodge where members meet to work for some great 

end, 
Intemperance in the use of speech might chill an ardent 

friend. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 20 

The constant loafer too, will find that he's intemperate too, 
While loafing ever in excess, the loaves are rare and few. 
Intemperate loafers have their ills of poverty and gout; 
We find for health we'd better work than to be rusting out. 
Intemperance, too, we see in dress, to this none can be blind; 
Excessive cramping of the waist and waste of cloth behind. 
If all the ills by fashion wrought were woven into rhyme, 
With changing styles of bonnet, hat and dress extremely fine, 
(For goods outwear the styles you know, and with the proud 

it seems 
A heavy tax on brain and sleep if limited in means.) 
To pen a path by fashion trod would be a work supreme, 
And he who labored at the task, intemperate with his theme. 
If all were temperate every way in food and drink and dress, 
In work and pleasure and in speech, the world would sorrow 

less 
There'd be less need of locks and jails and lawyers would be 

few, 
And doctors see their practice wane, and politicians, too: 
And clergymen would have less care, if temperance held the 

sway, 
And e'en the fairy land itself would not seem far away. 



SHOULD WOMEN VOTE. 
Should women vote? What then! no harm I hope 

If every woman in the land should vote. 
What good? my friends, would laws be better then 

Than laws we have, though made by men? 

The laws we have fit every needed case 
Where crime might find a lurking place, 

And public morals in a march sublime, 
Might rid the state of more than half its crime. 

In public morals rests our firmest trust, 
Confiding less to statute's moth and rust; 

The law is plenty strong enough today 
To banish crime from all our land away. 



21 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 



Were laws enforced no man would undertake 

To trade in liquors for the cash he'd make; 
Could women vote would better men instiil 

Their moral precepts in the public will? 
Could women vote, we think they'd vote for style, 

The handsome man, or one who had a pile 
But men of talent yet of humble means 

Would all be farmers, raising squash a-:d beans. 

Oh ! ladies, do not leave your gentle ways 
To mingie deep with politicians' maze, 

Lest sympathy riot in her strong incline; 
Let sterner justice rule the world of crime. 

Should women vote? why if they want to, yes; 

It is their right most deeply I confess; 
As for their morals I should blush to say 

They weren't a match for those who vote today. 



GOOD TKMPLARS. 
Flow much of good 'twere long to tell 

A Templar's life-work has befell; 
Through lights and shades and downcast eyes 

Through darkness on to brighter skies. 

A friendly word, a kindly look 

May win to virtue's path forsook; 

A timely hand stretched o'er the wave 
From total wreck a soul may save. 

Through varied scenes the Templars meet, 
Mid social charm and friendly greet; 

A shade perhaps, of doubts and fears; 

While joys stretch through declining years. 

What wayward step on shifting sand, 

Arrested by a Templar's hand? 
What noble youth be taught to shun 

The evils of the monster, rum? 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 22 

A parent saved of noble birth; 

A child redeemed of promised worth; 
A better world, and there is need, 

And fewer hearts be made to bleed. 

The good we do when right we scan 

Brings its rewar;. on every hand; 
What's for our noble Order s good 

Is good for us, when understood. 

'Twere good for all if sin and crime 

Were blotted for all future time: 
And all earths sorrows no more known 

As from intemperance has flown. 

'Twere good if all within our band 

Would work as one throughout the land; 

None recreant to our cause be known 
Till this great evil be o'erthrown. 

Till then be this our cheerful lot 

To toil in hope and weary not, 
The fallen, aid with willing grasp 

And joy will gladden to the last. 



AUTUMN. 

Rich autumn, with her golden fruit, rounds out the bounte- 
ous year: 

And garnered fields with open palm bestows unstinted cheer; 

The birds gave grace in summer song then sought a sunny 
clime; 

And autumn spreads a common feast, most kindly to man- 
kind. 

Why do we gloam o'er fallen leaves that mulch the hungry 

soil: 
A bank account when springtime comes, a friend to human 

toil:— 
The sear brown leaf is but the husk that held the golden 

grain; 
A latent life survives the blast to carpet field again. 



23 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

The fruitage flush and store-house filled, the ruddy fireside 

glow, 
Proclaim to man and trusting beast to fear no winter's snow; 
The withering frosts and biting blast that harbinger decay, 
Give quicker life and clearer thought and should not bring 

dismay. 

'Tis autumn time, and in its gifts, the bounties of the year; — 
To him who toils, to him who trusts, the winter hath no fear. 
As swelling streams flow oceanward, and press their naked 

banks, 
Let all my soul press toward its goal in fullest, heartfelt 

thanks. 

Oh! dreamy brain, thou need'st the spurr that all the seasons 

bear, 
Of hopeful spring, of summer's toil and autumn's fullest 

share. 
To store the mind with needful things that nature freely 

yields, 
That winter storms may milder blow to winners in the fields. 

As seasons roll, stern winter comes with storms and blinding- 
snow, 

With indoor sports, and festive hall, and joys unnumbered 
flow; — 

And this the season best of all to store the hungry mind, 

Where stores of knowledge without end await all those in- 
clined. 

And should some falter by the way, and need a little care, 
AU o'er the wide expanse of earth, White Ribboners are 
there; 

And springtime bloom and song bird's tune will greet those 

at the gate, 
Who reap the harvest in its time, who work and do not wait. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 24 

THE CLOSING OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 

Good bye! old Century, good bye! 

We'll welcome in the new, 
Old age has settled on your limbs 

We have no use for you: 

The weight of care is on your brow, 

Your eyes are getting dim, 
Your gait is less elastic now, 

Your flesh is growing thin : 

A century of over-work 

Has made you very tired, 
Now we'll step in and fill your place 

And you shall be retired. 

Ofcourse for all the good you've done 

You have our warmest thanks, 
For keeping off a foreign foe 

And managing the cranks: 

For cutting off the forests wide, 

A thousand other cares, 
For building roads wherein we go 

And thinning out the bears. 

For clearing up the hunting grounds, 

For homes and cultured farms, 
That shattered half your.fondest hopes 

By warwhoops night alarms : 

We thank you for the power of steam 

You've brought unto our aid, 
And for the thousand miles of rails 

All o'er our country laid; 

We thank you for the trolley car 

Invitingly they fly, 
Although they strike the; Hampden road 

Of Winterport they're shy: 

The telegraph and telephone 

It gives and doth bequeath, 
And for another century 

The old will get relief: 



25 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

A thousand, thousand other things, 
We thank you from our heart, 

But soon a century begins, 
The old as soon departs: 

The old is crippled with its work, 
And spilling out its sands, 

And soon the new steps in and takes 
The deal from off its hands: 

The time is drawing still more close, 
The heart-beats quickly fail, 

A tear-drop in the slot machine 
Will find a turning scale. 

Old century, good bye ! good bye ! 

Right soon you'll end your flight 
And we may cheer as well as sigh 

And flag the mountain height. 

The light still lingers in the West, 
A pall hang o'er the sky, 

Low twelve upon the dial tells 
A century must die. 

The old in slumber on his couch, 
Nor heeds the moments fly; 

Bequest is written on his brow 
And in the New Year's eye. 

The New Year takes the dying hand, 
The pink is on hig brow, 

The morning of the century born 
Is resting on him now. 

When curfew rings the midnight bell 
'Twill usher in the morn 

That echoes o'e* a happy land, — 
A century new-born. 

Good bye! old century, good bye! 

Your work superbly done. 
We take the trust which we bequeath 

So worthily you won. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 26 

The century to come, we ask, 

For wonders in extent, 
To match the one already past, 

What can mankind invent. 

How would a Home Week be to us 

Unspeakable in bliss, 
To walk tho streets of Winterport 

One hundred years from this. 



BIRDS. 
Thou joyous birds that wake the early morn, 
And trill the evening with your cheery song; 
With tiny throat, at every heaving swell, 
Echoes, aloud, the hill anl wooded dell. 

Who tuned your flute to make the tone so sweet? 
Who taught the tune that makes my cold heart leap? 
Sing st thou a love song to a loyal mate? 
Or sing'st to chide me in my low estate? 

Methinks, thou little warbler of the sky, 
Thou hast a tutor from thine home on high; 
And bring*st love's message to the drowsy throng; 
The olive branch, loud burst ng into song. 

Oh! hunter spare! let not their gorgeous plume 
Draw forth your deadly aim to seal their doom; 
At those sweet songsters deal no wanton blow, 
To rob the world of half its charm below : 

Let not the whistling ball a requiem send 
To wreck the songsters of the hill and glen : 
Let not the rifle crack surcease the song 
That lures my soul in rapturous thoughts along. 

Sing on, sweet birds, the world seems better when 
We hear your songs trill o'er the flowery glen: 
And more content I take my task along 
When list the carols of your sweet love song. 



27 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

READ AT COUNTY COUNCIL, GRANGE HALL, 
SOUTH NEWBUKG, DEC. 27, 1870. 
Kind friends all hail! thrice welcome far and near; 
Thy tributes from a Patron s hand makes presence doubly dear. 
Six years have passed since in the soil of Maine 
The Grange took root; say Patrons did we plant in vain? 
The tiny germ we loved so well and wondered, as you know, 
If on the rocky coast of Maine the Grange could ever grow. 

How is it now? How was it then? These questions often bring 

The music of the long ago on mem'ry's merry wing: 

What has been true of "Rising Star ' was much the same 

with all, 
The schoolroom was the first resort, soon after that the hall; 
And now the Granger's merry homes stud thick the country 

o'er, 
And sometimes nestling 'neath its feet a lively, porsperous 

store. 

How anxiously and ardent toiled is known by us alone: 

To rear these halls and win the hearts befit the Granger's 

home; 
Unskilled, unarmed as farmers were why wonder at our fears; 
Or wonder that a misplaced word should get us by the ears? 

But principles are mighty things, oft hidden by the way; 
Or struggling like a prisoned germ, then budding into day. 
That principle we sought for then was but the social charm 
Where honest hearts as one unite to shield from outward 

harm; 
To cultivate, give strength and tone and also might be made, 
(Uniting hands as well as hearts) a far more prosperous trade. 

And so it should when all agree and labor with a will; 
No sorrow could increase thereby or garners be less filled. 
How is it friends, East, North and South, what message do 

you bring? 
Have all your efforts in the work produced the sought for 

thing? 
Have names been dropping from the rolls, do members well 

attend? 
Are dues well paid and all engaged been faithful to the end? 



XQ 



CD 



2 

CD 



P 

3 
P- 



CD 



3 

org 
a; 

et- 
P 



P 

3 

CD 




LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 30 

Have some o'er worked and done the task that many should 

have done? 
Or fell behind for lack support when all might easy won? 
Are some unmindful of morale if money can be made, 
And patronize some other store to drive a sharper trade? 
Do some withdraw or turn away to hug some party pique? 
Or show a fin because some there to whom they do not speak? 
Or raise a breeze because some friend can scarcely join at all? 
While some may handle quite too free the black disasterous 
ball. 

Dear Patrons, shall these little things deter us on our way, 
Or bring foreboding as of fate to lull us to decay? 
The Grange was never meant to be a pleasing idle tale 
To spur the heart to noble deeds and then relapse and fail; 
But, rooted deep in principles of morals, truth and worth, 
To yield the fruit abundantly that's worthy of her birth. 

The Grange hath shelter for us all, young, old and every 

grade 
Who love the cause and will unite beneath its cooling shade; 
Long may her branches cropping out dispell our inmost fears, 
And waft her fragrance to the world for long unnumbered 

years. 



GIVE AND BEQUEATH. 

Wealth I withhold for wealth hath wings 

And with it fly the friends it brings : 
Of greater worth to thee, the flail; 

And more thy life-work will avail; 
For every stroke reveals the grain, 

And health makes full the ruddy vein: 
Heaven smiles upon the man who works, 

And shuns the one who always shirks: 
A little pounding of the sheave 

Is music to the laughing sleeve. 



31 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



LITTLE THINGS. 

GRANGE HALL, MARCH 1881. 

The little things and not the great deserve our best endeavor; 
The little threads of small events hold greater ones together: 
A neble cause might soon take flight upon unsteady wings 
If not sustained by binding cords of useful little things. 

No ov n great mind year in, year out can hold the Grange to- 
gether; 
But many, willing lesser lights will stand the boisterous weather. 
Tho" friendly words and kindly deeds are trifles it is true, 
But utilize this social charm what blessings would accrue. 

Yes, utilize, make moral use of every member here, 

And trifling, though, each part alone 'twould warm with so- 
cial cheer. 

Now some lay back and seeming think they could not lend a 
hand; 

But look around for someone else to figure on the stand: 

And think, perhaps when coming here and find our meetings 

tame ; 
Because no great event occurs the Grange is on the wane. 
Do not mistake and think by this that I would deign to teach; 
Or that I think all members here could charm you with a 

speech ; 

But this I mean that everyone should have some part to do; 

If nothing more than listen; good listeners are too few. 

If little things are done aright "twill fortify the Grange 

If little things are done all wrong 'twill make a direful change. 

Two little words if heeded well the Grange would surely live; 

One little word utility, the other is forgive: 

To show the moral of this text, as a minister would do, 

I'll note some things which I have seen tho 1 not entirely new: 

First E'd utilize the gate keeper in the duties that are his; 
And stop his running in and out in a way they have no biz; 
He should not stray beyond the gate to greet the wandering 

"stars; 1 ' 
Nor while he's needed at the gate be kissing through the bars: 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 82 

And while the Grange confers degrees a Patron, then, should 

wait; 
And not display his squeaky boots by passing at the gate: 
So much clandestine passing out should have a little care; 
'Twoulcl be utility at least, that they address the chair. 

This little word utility, if all would heed it well, * 
Would stop these side shows round the hall, and whispering 

would quell; 
'Twonld fill again these unused seats, such pleasure it would 

bring; 
And, Patrons, it would pay, besides, to utilize this thing. 

To make a good and proper use, alone would cause to live 

Then we would scarcely have to know the other word forgive. 

The little things more than the great deserve our best endeav- 
or: 

The little things make up the great by summing them to- 
gether. 



THE FIDDLE AND HAND THAT HANDLES THE BOW. 

READ AT R. S. GRANGE ANNIVERSARY APR. 9, 1880. 

Where dwelleth the person whose spirit within 

Has never been charmed by the sweet violin, 

A box made of wood and fastened with glue; 

Four strings they call cat-gut though made from the ewe; 

With a diet of rosin and the skill as you know, 

That lies in the hand that handles the bow. 

Like the fiddle so is life in its journey along; 
In tune and discordant and varied in song; 
Now sparkling and joyous, now sober and grim; 
As is the condition so the heartbeats within; 
When the strings are accordant the music will flow, 
If the hand is made skilful that handles the bow. 

As we muse on the thing and its musical strain; 
The viol we'd liken to Rising Star Grange; 
A six year old fiddle in a comparative way; 
Twelve score of beginners all learning to play: 



33 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Sometimes Yankee Doodle, the meter and rhyme; 
Old Hundred more languid or somber Lang Syne; 
Sometimes 'twas high tL C v or pitched on low u G. n 
It being adapted to every known key: 
So varied in rhythm our Orange could scarce bore, 
Had she played but one string instead of all four; 
Thus the musical charm for six years did flow 
By the skill of the Patrons who handled the bow. 

Six years with us passed and melted away 
Since we took the big riddle and first learned to play; 
Each key in position, the bridge bore the strain; 
Every string was responsive and joined the refrain; 
Whether hornpipe or dirge, whether rapid or slow; 
As moved by the Patrons who handled the bow. 

As the viol is played on that tune it will piay ; 
Whether sweet or enchanting or discordant the lay; 
So our Orange gives the music, whatever the strain, 
As each Patron plays 'tis re-echoed again: 
As we turn on the keys, or touch on the string, 
Or handle the bow, just such music 'twill bring. 
Now, if growlers complain of our musical show; 
They should put in a hand and help handle the bow. 

Without jerking however in discordant chime; 

Nor playing a hornpipe in Old Hundred time; 

But yielding, by turns, giving each elbow room, 

And play for each other his favorite tune; 

And thus may we greet with our musical cheer, 

And keep strung the riddle for many a year; 

When the ninth day of April, our birthday comes round 

May the music be sweeter and more welcome the sound: 

And our hearts swell with pride that success did bestow 

A reward to the skilful that handled the bow. 

Now ye violin lovers who delight in its cheer, 
If you'd step by its music and hail each new year, 
Then see that the viol is thoroughly strung, [come; 

That the right notes may touch the good patrons who 
That the keys be adjusted that hold the loose ends; 
For slipping of these might be shocking to friends; 
And be careful dear patrons of dust yon may throw 
Except what is needed to rosin the bow. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 34 



THE BIRD THAT WONT SING. 

READ IN GRANGE APRIL 2, 1887. 

It has been said in times of yore, 

And been repeated on this floor, 
The birds that sing of every grade, 

Which can and will not shall be made. 

Those talking thus, as it appears, 
Are mostly mouth and little ears: 

A coffee pot the symbol brings 
All mouth back to the very hinge. 

Now some may think just as they say, 

Because they chant an easy lay 
That every bird that hath a wing 

Can take their key and straightway sing; 

And so they might, as we'd suppose 

Of hooting owls, or noisy crows; 
But where's the music in the ring 

Of one of these if made to sing? 

Now, Patrons, if I should make amends 

And try to make these birds my friends, 
An empty choir would show the test; 

Like last year's birds, flown from their nest. 
Not there I'd look for feathered guests; 

There are no birds in last year's nests; 
Nor is there music in the ring, 

Of any bird that's made to sing. 



ACROSTIC. 

Fair fe'rtile fields fanned by the prosperous breeze; 
Lithe limbs line out with laughter in the sleeve; 
O'er hangs the hill with fruit and bending boughs: 
Replete the barn with sleek and thrifty cows; 
Enough the chambers for the timbers creak; 
Nor skip the cellar of a greater treat; 
Content the farmer with a happy lot; 
Enough for pocket and the boiling pot. 



35 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 



UNCLE STEVE. 
I own a farm the best in town; 
Three thousand easli tells its renown; 
Such crops of oats none other yields; 
That fill my bins and deck my fields: 
I whip the town, sirs, I believe, 
And no mistake says uncle Steve. 

Potatoes raised upon my land 

Are ready peeled as by the hand. 

So large and mealy and so nice, 

I sell them quick at any price; 

So mealy that we all take stand 

Around the pot with fork in hand, 

To grab them soon as they get hot, 

Before they burst and go to pot. 

I vow such sights you'd scarce believe, 

And no mistake says uncle Steve. 

My farm is lined with carts and plows; 
My barn is filled with farrow cows; 
Such floods of milk you ne'er have seen, 
So rich, [ vow 'tis mostly cream: 
The greenbacks, sir, before they leave, 
And no mistake says nncle Steve. 

Sir, there's my horse, a mighty beast; 
She'll haul the most and eat the least: 
My buggy, sir, the best they make; 
I ride or walk, sir, no mistake: 
Another, sir, that Morrill made 
For sixty-five, a mighty trade; 
He took my note, sir, now you see 
I'll discount that and make a V; 
No borrowing now or lending even. 
And no mistake, says uncle Steven. 

My shoat, sir, four hundred pounds and hard 
Of solid pork besides the lard; 
My cellar's filled with pork I van; 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 36 

My garret filled with choicest ham; 
No more I'll work, but always free, 
Each day 111 drink a pound of tea; 
On short lard cakes I'll live a man; 
Fresh eggs, and ham shall line the pan; 
I'll join the young that make me gay; 
I'll dye my hair that's growing gray; 
On ten per cent I'll live alway; 
This good old way I ne'er shall leave, 
And no mistake says uncle Steve. 



THE NEW STOVE. 

Our neighbor S — has got a stove, 
A new style patent ranger; 

The rate she'll make the pie and cake 
Is a marvel to the stranger. 

Now Mary keeps it shining black; 

By making vests she won it; 
We hope tobacco quids and juice 

Will not be spit upon it. 

And Mary sings her sweetest song; 

The cat sings without danger; 
Canaries join the sweet refrain 

Of the kettle on the ranger. 



TO A NEWLY MARRIED COUPLE. 
I wish you joy as far as heart can reach 

That lies beyond the power of pen or speech; 
And many moons your length of years prolong; 

And all your lives a happy "sweet love song." 



37 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



THE SILVER GRAYS. 

In Newburg in her palmy days, 
None could excell the Silver Grays: 
And every day throughout the week 
They chased the muse with willing feet; 
From early eve to dawn of day, 
The young could scarcely be more gay : 
Nor distance with its wealth of woes 
Of savage storms, or drifting snows, 
Would stop them in their rapid flight, 
Or check them in their heart's delight: 
And down from Gospel Hill they'd go 
To join with those from Jordan s flow, 
And meet at Sodom's friendly call, 
At Walker's store, (changed to a hall.) 

Historians of an ancient type, 
Gave us pet names, not quite polite, 
And in return, as people will, 
They got the name of Brimstone Hill. 

A change came with the lengthening days; 
A round-up for the Silver Grays: 
All joys must sometime have an end, 
Like parting with a new made friend; 
Regrets may feel her darts most keen, 
But time will soften ail the scene; 
And, as we note departing friends, 
For faults, their silence makes amends. 

The time thus spent needs not our praise: 
Nor chide their close in burning blaze; 
But thus they planned, these old gray head 
To paint the town and make it red. 

The hall was packed, in fact a swell; 
All merry as a marriage bell; 
The Silver Gray in musics whirl; 
The younger men and blooming girl, 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 38 

Such power of effort and of aim, 

Must need support which timely came: 

'Twas twelve, low twelve, and merry feet 

Were marching for a royal treat: 

Hot coffee steaming odors sweet; 

White wheaten loaves for sandwiched meat. 

And other things; and to complete 

The bivalves of the ocean deep. 

And yet, to tell a sorry truth, 
This was not all beneath one roof; 
For, in this town, and had for years 
In social rank they all were peers; 
And for a slight they'd want to know 
Why invitations skipped them so. 

The lights burned brightly in the hall; 
The echoing footsteps, few and small; 
And absent was the bow and horn; 
A calm before a coming storm. 

An emblem of the codfish type 
Adorned the hall, hung full in sight; 
And on each back with chalk did fix 
The figures, seventeen seventy -six: 
And those returning quickly saw 
The gathering of a social war. 

Cne had a bag of pepper red; 

A rock inside to sink, 'twas said; 

And what 'twas for the wise well knew 

For flavoring, for the oyster stew. 

By accident, for such things will 

Upon the dancing floor did spill 

By throwing round, by kick and cuff, 

Not knowing then how hot the stuff. 

I tell it as another sees; 

Not one was there but had to sneeze; 

And as the gathering crowd did come 

Down o'er the cheeks the tears would run. 



39 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

And some one with a thoughtful grace 
Got water to wet down the place. 
But water with a lot of boys 
There's danger to the equipoise: 
Nor boys alone, this to their praise; 
'Twa'n't safe to trust the Silver Grays. 
One took a start with fair intent, 
And sprinkled fairly as he went; 
But sprinkling from an open pail, 
Among a crowd was sure to fail: 
And as each felt the water drip 
He wished to take his turn at it; 
Till all the pails and empty cans 
With willing hearts found willing hands: 
Twas then the game to charge and fleet, 
To load and fire and then retreat: 
If some had filled with water first, 
And been more temperate at the last, 
I would not now be writing rhyme, 
That simply is a waste of time; 
Nor would the jingle of the muse, 
So haunt me if I did refuse. 

There is no need for me to say 

That things were ivet around that way; 

Nor simply damp like morning dew; 

But deluged, dripping through and through. 

Some nearby ones, as we'd suppose 

Struck out for home and got dry clothes; 

The deluged floor not dry a spot 

They whisked around with broom and mop. 

With unshined boots and unstarched shirt, 

They formed for dance and other work, 

And this the motto and the game, 

Who dine apart should dance the same. 

One set formed on with angry glance 

To dance some kind of kitchen dance; 

Another followed in the wake 

To dance the Lady of the Lake. 

And these two sets as thus formed on 

Showed what the food last dined upon; 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 40 

But silent was the music's flow 
From horn or organ or the bow; 
But echoed through the hall profound, 
And through the still night air around 
The thunders of the lofty speech 
That Patrick Henry failed to reach, 
And statesmen of a modern day 
Might listen to in blank dismay. 

And then 'twere fair, perhaps, to state 

That in the heat of the debate 

For warmth, or for the coming fray, 

Some took off coats and laid away; 

While others who were slow to think 

Had theirs yanked off as quick as wink. 

So words had followed fast to blows; 

I'll let him tell who better knows: 

And as for me 'twere better read 

To leave the other half unsaid: 

And yet I would not all ignore; 

Nor leave my subject "half seas o'er.'' 

A number there I do believe 
Knew something "of an empty sleeve: 7 ' 
The coat they took, and, as we find, 
They left the empty sleeve behind. 
To dames were added to- their cares 
The skill of mending and repairs; 
And peddlers who did next come round 
Said with their rags coats did abound; 
And hair thereon in great display 
Beside the young, the Silver Gray. 

Now some will ask,( as time goes by 
When dust beneath their tombstones lie, 
The readers of bygone reports) 
Who were the ancient Newburg sports, 
And who the leaders of the fray, 
The heroes of the Silver Gray? 
Perhaps the man of lowly birth, 
Who bore the name of half the earth, 
Who took the ladies from the hall 



41 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

And fed them, twenty-seven in all ; 
And took the gents off by the score 
And treated freely at his store ; 
(Too freely, for I need not lie) 
To "soft 11 and "hard" the very dry. 

And other heroes of the night 
Who risked their bones to stop a fight; 
With forceful arm and smiling wit, 
Who put a clownish face to it: 
Some heroines, who took a stand 
The guardians from a ruthless hand 
The steaming stew that was their pride, 
From hungry wolves who lurked outside. 

Another, too, deserves our praise, 

For music hath a charm always; 

And music long had been denied 

Lest that might some fine point decide; 

Musicians, long, had ceased to play; 

The horn and viol laid away; 

To clear the crash they quick withdrew, 

Or from the rest had passed from view; 

Till one came forth and touched the string, 

And through the hall the notes did ring; 

And silence, for a moment reigned, 

And to the crowd he then proclaimed; — 

"Let mirth again your path pursue; 

This is a dance, not 'Waterloo!' 

l On with the dance' to music's flow, 

For soon you'll hear the roosters crow." 

Again he drew the magic bow; 

Responsive soon the heel and toe; 

Though slow at first, then quicker time 

Till all the host was formed in line: 

Then quelled, somewhat, the battle's roar; 

'Twas seen the storm was passing o'er: 

Not minding who the wet or dry, 

How quick the step, how much too "high;" 

Or minded that the suit he wore 

Was finished but an hour before: 






LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 42 

That from a coat, a collar gone; 

Or from an arm a sleeve were shorn; 

And buttons by the dozen score 

Less on the pants than on the floor. 

The hero of the escapade 

Pronounced the dance a masquerade; 

And, as he glanced his eyes around 

But few he knew could there be found; 

As if a cyclone swept a bower 

And shook it with its withering power; 

Or dropped from some far land, elsewhere, 

A people strange and left them there; 

Or, wakened from a troubled dream 

With eyes upon a transformed scene, 

And wunder wandering through his meat 

If this wa'n't still delusive sleep, 

No laughing matter as it ends, 

No matter if you laugh, my friends. 

The rising sun, the purpled snows, 
Might tell the cause of many woes: 
How sweet the sight of coming day 
To chase the shades of night away; 
That penetrates the darkest gloom; 
And points us to a higher noon; 
As rising to a lofty height 
It seems to say u more light, more light; 11 
And, to my drooping eyes all wet 
It seeme to say, forgive, forget; 
And, softly sinking in the west, 
It seems to say, to rest, to rest. 



ACROSTIC. 

Often on the ocean billowed; 
Tempest tossed and briny pillowed; 
Into sober smoother waters; 
"Snug in Harbors 1 ' safer quarters; 
Deeper joys, we hope prevailing, than upon the 
deep seas sailing. 



43 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



WEDDING BELLS. 

1879 
No offence should be taken at effort of mine 

For twisting the meaning in order to rhyme; 
Take words at their worth when swelled in their seeming 

For a word's wortli no more'n the weight of its meaning. 

No one thing of late which we can relate 

Has caused so much gossip or social debate 
As marriages happened, exceeding the talk 

Of politics, potato bugs or that of the rot. 

To go backward a little to make our report 
When Allen got a plump shot from the "Fort" 

Which doubled the painter in the strangest dilemma 

While the paint in his heart-case flowed to the tune of 
"Whoa Emma. 1 ' 

Passing on over the Fort and the ditches ; 

The Brass coupled Bridge connecting some Riches, 
Where rings now the anvil by Lincoln undaunted 

Blooms a flower of the "Marshes" by Lincoln transplanted. 

Not far on the hillside seven flowers were reared, 
A Garland was plucked when Josiah appeared: 

Another we'd mention, a Miss Lora Fliim 

Repelled not the Deaning most certain to win. 

Another quite weighty more lately has come; 

Wheeled off by a Barrow a Boy of a ton: 
May their burdens grow lighter and may Boyington learn, 

A Barrow to be a handy concern. 

Another we'd mention which happened still later, 

Where Willie partook of the feast and Etta: 
We scarcely would say that Etta was ate 

But that Willie partook of the Goodrich cake. 

Since love rides on blindly wherever 'tis drawn; 

Advice in such matters is scarce worth a song; 
So to married and single we've nothing to say; 

For they're much better suited to have their own way. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 44 



FORTY-FOUR YEARS A STEP-MOTHER. 

august 9, 1898. 
Indeed so many years gone safely by; 

A bird on wing so swiftly do they fly: 
Once a green you.th(and memory fresh doth bring) 

I thought a step was just an awful thing. 

Now forty-four, she says, how short they seem 
A fleeting cloud so brief, a pleasant dream 

But past events note show along their wake 
That early step was not so bad to take. 

Unlike the steps that some unlucky got, 

Mine made good puddings and she served the ] hot 
And gave in bounty, not intending harm, 

The proof he carries in a scar burnt palm. 

Those gentle hugs that ended in a rough, 

In vain to make her say she's hugged enough, 

With eye-balls bulged, and cheeks a fervid glow, 
And cracking ribs compelled a letting go. 

Can any say that love was lacking here? 

Or tenderness surviving all the year? 
And now we think when all the counts are done 

The mother's fate was harder than the son's. 

It was my fate 'neath lucky stars Us born, 

That those of worth should train life's early morn; 

And if the fruit has been supremely spare, 
'Twas not the lack of mother's loving care. 

ACROSTIC. 

Rose is a precious flower; 

Oft may it deck my wreath ; 

Since love and innocence break forth; 

Evolved from every leaf. 

E'en though my wreath should fade 

And fairer flowers appear; 

Though thorns should hide within its folds 

Oh! let thy praises still be told; 

Nay, let thy music cheer. 






45 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF MARRIAGE OF 

ANDREW FERNALD AND WIFE, Aug. 23, 1900. 

Sixty years of weddod life 

How they're toiled both man and wife, 

Eighty-four and growing grey; 

Still they toil the same old way; 

Swing the scythe and shove the jack; 

Wield the maul with willing back; 

And their fields as fertile grow, 

As at sixty years ago. 

Strawberry patch and waving grass, 
Climbing beans and garden sauce; 
Trees have grown to shade their door, 
Formed their rings of several score, 
Till their tops now kiss the skies: 
How a wedded lifetime flies! 
If a single life they'd led, 
Long ago they 'd both been dead: 

Nor slacks the pace, the busy bride 

Toils on undaunted by his side; 

And as of yore, the traveling horde 

Smile blandly o'er the festive board; 

For nimble step and rapid whirl 

She quite overtakes the modern girl. 

And while their course, we here review 

We wish young folks might their's pursue. 

We see our lives are not in vain, 

Mor for ourselves alone the claim; 

A frugal life, a thrifty care 

May save another's footsteps 1 snare; 

As o'er the path where others lead 

We follow with a safer speed. 

Long may the fruits of August bear 
Abundance to this aged pair; 
And may they live in happy noon 
Till their tall poplars touch the moon. 
They planted those when life was young; 



H 


CD 







Ma 
rt 


F 


rt 


|-J. 





*^ 


y 


* 




o 


CD 


cr 


o 


-! 


rt 


►5 


<j 


T 








CD 


pa 


/: 


P^QTQ 




C7 - 


jt 


3 


H 


— 



*Q — k 





r 


_ 


v: 


r 


t^ 








rt 

CD 


Ha 


3' 


-5 




7: 


■I 






X 


y. 










u. 






CD 


CD 


H 


C5 

cc 


pa 

- 


CD 


o 


o. 


rt 


Ha 




$| 


> 


pi 

3 





3 


y: 


P- 




(rt 

O 






CD 

3 


a 

cro 


H. 


^ 




C^ 


CD 

3 


tJ- 


M< 


CD 


Pi 


pa 









n 


B 


( ^ 


CD 


cro 




tr 


pa 




p- 


rt 




p^ 


rt 




CD 


cr 




LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 48 

Majestic now they woo the sun 
From slender stem to towering blade 
Now passers pause beneath their shade; 

And lovers meet and freely woo 
Less shyly than they used to do. 
Well, let them spin their silken thread; 
But after all is done and said, 
'Neath smiling sun and honeyed moon, 
Mid winter's blasts and summer's bloom 
For youthful pair 'tis well to know 
That real life is not all show. 

And whether brain or from the soil, 
Success comes with a life of toil. 
Wed to a girl and not to work, 
Wed to a man who is a shirk; 
Unfrugal in their early years, 
Are wed to sorrow and to tears : 
And if they'd lead a better life, 
May learn of Andrew and his wife. 



CONFESSION 
I love to steal awhile away from every tangling snare, 
And from bad company would steal and make my absence 

there: 
I also lie as well as steal, for I lie down at night 
And sleep more sweetly for the tho't that I am doing right; 
I of times murder with delight when woke from sleep pro- 
found 
The gouge armed "skeeters 11 thirsting blood that blows his 

bugle round, 
I seldom swear and when I do, I swear the truth to tell 
Thus good is meant nor ill intent within my bosom swell. 

Altho 1 I murder lie and steal and sometimes bravely swear, 
? Tis but the name without the the game where satan sets his 

snare 
With all these crimes that I confess, and others of the heart, 
No conscience mine gives warning ear nor fear for jailor's art. 



49 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



DOG-DAYS. 

Dog-clays have come with heat and fogs; 

The dog's tar gloams o'er human dogs; 
Mosquitoes swarm and flies unite 

To deal out torture left and right. 

And in the river thickly seen 

The steamboats ply Penobscot's stream; 
And tourists seek awhile from care 

And throng their decks to breathe sea air. 

While those at home frown at their lot, 

Denied to choose a fairer spot, 
Tourists flock here every day; 

Winterport's not the worst, they say. 

They seek to breathe our fragrant air, 
And in our sports to take a share; 

Croquet, lawn tennis and all that 
Of out-door sport with ball and bat. 

And this is when the farmers sigh; 

Mow down their grass and watch the sky: 
And berry pickers, not a few, 

Bring in their fruit, red white and blue. 

Dog-days have come and with it scenes, 

Potatoes new, delicious beans; 
And heaped up plates of new green peas, 

Where butter melts ar sight, of these, 

An ear in hand of well cooked corn; 

Row after row to gnaw upon; 
And live again an old-time joy 

Lest you forget yous once a boy. 



WATER WORKS. JAN. 13, 1897. 
Piped waters deep press 'neath the smooth highway, 
And swell in fountains fierce with bending spray, 
Or drown the flames from angry havoc's play, 
In wanton luxury. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 50 

Outside the village on her Western flanks, 
Stand thick the hamlets of insurgents camps, 
To match the torrents of the rival cranks 
In wasteful energy. 

Heard ye the warwhoop echo 'long our ports? 
Or saw the conscripts march for Belfast courts? 
To spend the wampum, sparing well worn throats 
To herald chivalry. 

On Linden when the beaming sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the white untrodden snow; 
But Winterport doth plainly footprints show 
Snow tracks visible. 

Full soon will be the joke a constant care 
To probe the pockets for the pennies there; 
For warfare oftimes claims the lion's share, 
And scoops the taxes. 

The dance is on! at first an easy grade; 
But whether dance or seek the cooling shade, 
The fiddler for the music must be paid 
From out the taxes. 

Is there no power the troubled sea to calm? 
While waters flow must all shake with alarm? 
Love of good neighborhood, hath that no charm? 
No balm in Gillead? 



ACROSTIC. 
O'er all the earth where mortals deign to teach, 
Mankind pays tribute to the lofty speech; 
Engrafted to a heart that's good and true, 
Reforms result to build the world anew. 



51 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 



NOT AS IS USED TO BE. 

READ IN CIRCLE JAN. 1898. 

"We drink the same stream, we feel the same sun, 
We run the same course our fathers have run, 1 " 

Did our forefathers dream of the Circle's glad hours, 
Or revel in elegant suppers like ours? 

And could it be said their tables were spread 

With cakes dainty frosting, such white loaves of bread? 

Would their cup of coffee a modern one please 
Sweetened with Masses and flavored with peas? 

Would it brighten our circle all brilliantly lit 
To make an exchange for the dim candle dip? 

I wonder what our oid grandmas would say 
To look in upon us and see us so gay; 

No doubt they would quickly discover the new 

And say, "not exactly as we used to do; 11 
Perhaps they would view witli joys 1 beaming looks 

The shelves' heavy burden of volumes of books, 

And say, what a blessing if we in our day 

Could had such great bounties to gladden our way. 

Nor should we exult with revelric glee, 
For they were quite as near heaven as we. 

Ofcourse they would miss their bevies of kid, 
Who were to be seen while nothing they did: 

Though fewer in numbers its a pleasure to know 
The little ones carry a part of the show. 

And while their appointments were harder than ours, [ers; 

They were clearing their jungles which softened our bow- 
Their strong sturdy strokes made clearer the plain, 

And people who follow may polish the same. 

And yet in a measure we live in the past, 

Our forefathers virtues in volumes are cast; 

We read them with wonder and grateful surprise; 
Our hearts lift more noble with tear tempered eyes. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 52 

Nor yet should we say our race is well run, 
To follow their virtues, their follies to shun, 

Unless we improve in life's tangled play 

And show in our acting one better than they. 

Oh! why not the "spirit of mortal be proud 1 ' 
. When the lining of silver is seen on the cloud; 

And blessings unthought of in grandfather's day 
Are pressing and leading to an easier way. 



THE ICE GOES OUT. 

The ice goes out; right glad to see it go; 

With open arms old ocean waits your flow. 
Long have we marked thy lingering stay, 

Long hast thou bridged the liquid way, 
Long spread thy flinty carpet sheen 

Far Northward on Penobscot's stream; 
Where Bangor felt thy tightened jaws, 

And writhed beneath interstate laws; 
With wistful looks we have no doubt 

To Winterport's free passage out, 
For 'tis our boast and rightly, too, 

Our port is clear the winter through. 

Hail, monarch ! glorious orb of day, 

Thy Southern march too long made stay. 
Speed on, speed on, thy higher flight, 

Increase thy heat, expand thy light; 
Unclasp with thy dissolving ray 

The frozen paths to spring's highway. 
We hear the songsters of the air 

Swell their glad throats, thy course declare. 

The ice goes out; from shore to shore 

It loosens to take hold no more. 
Along the banks you hear the shout, 



53 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

"The Bangor ice s going out," 

It chafes and groans along the -shore, 

And thunders on its headlong roar; 
She lifts her hat, a parting said 

"Good bye, Bangor, 1 ' at old High Head; 
(Those do the same, not wont to roam 

When leaving friends, they love, and home, ) 
Nor paused again but onward flew 

Till Crosby's narrows came to view; 
And there she claimed the right of way, 

But rested with a tide's delay; 
And, noiseless to the Cove she hied 

Where spans the river still more wide; 

A broken raft her members glide, 

And shapes her course to flowing tide, 

Nor scarce a welcome can she claim, 
Till passing out beyond the main 

Where, open ocean, with a smile 
May claim her own, a truant child. 

A bell rings out, a whistle's scream, 

Penobscot's keel plows through the stream, 
Nor scarcely waits the outward flight 

Of floating ice, so plain to sight; 
Though cautiously she picks her way, 

The dangerous floes she keeps at bay, 
The shores resound her noble flight 

And Bangor welcomes her tonight. 

The tugs pass by and draw a fleet 

With well filled stores their keels run deep. 

McDonough, loaded, waits a show, 
And when he waits few else can go. 

Others too, are looking out, 

As from a den and just thawed out. 

The ice goes out, and soon is seen 
The trees, and fields, in mantle green, 

And fragrant flowers perfume the way, 
And birds pour out their sweetest lay. 

Then who'd not gladden at the shout, 

That welcome sound, "The ice goes out. 1 * 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 54 



TOWN MEETING AND WHAT THE MODERATOR 
DIDN'T SAY. Mar. 28, 1899. 

Teams line the snowy, slushy streets and voters pack the hall; 

The clerk comes forth with lengthy scroll and wields a time- 
scarred maul; 

The old, the young, the bald, the gray, and shrill fruit vend- 
ing boys; 

The clock strikes ten and all is life; the air is thick with noise. 

Thump! Thump! Thump! To order come, far off and faint 

the cry; 
The moderator pounds and pounds, behold the splinters fly: 
Gentlemen, be quiet now; there's business old and new; 
If you'll be moderate in your speech, I'll rush the business 

through. 

Boys, be quiet over there and cease your noisy pranks; 

And watch the scenes where soon you'll join as voters in the 

ranks ; 
For when the rogues have all reformed or sleep upon the hill, 
Then you will fill their empty shoes and exercise your skill. 

And history will go to show, and your own record prove 
Whether the world is standing still, or whether it doth move; 
And likely boys make likely men, and towns make up the 

State, 
And great assemblies of the good will make a nation great. 

Nov* there is money to be raised and some of you, I know, 
Will want a chance to watch the sun and lean upon the hoe. 
The funds you raise will reach your wants and mend the 

broken way, 
And all will join to vote the same who have no tax to pay. 

Is tlmre a man who does not choose a smooth, substantial 

road, 
Where he may drive a lively steed or draw a heavy load? 
Is here a man to pinch a tax, or shirk a manly zeal, 
Who owns a farm beside the way or spins a modern wheel? 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



Have you a friend to favor you in case your party win? 
Then ponder well how much for you, how little left for him 
When can we sing an old time tune and join the major throng 
And cast aside the sleepy drone where boodle is the song? 

And you wili vote this aftenoon most liberally for schools, 
Though some may call us arrant knaves, we are not wholly 

fools; 
For criminals are dearly bought and one might cost you more 
Than money spent to educate a self sustaining score. 

And school-life is the fountain head of our great country free, 
And as your schools are good or bad your government will be. 
Then raise the standard of your schools where liberty unfolds; 
Where every man is king who votes with freedom at the 
polls. 

And he who votes another s will, his own in shackles bound, 
What better than an ape is he, or than a pigmy crowned? 
Are we unloyal to our trust? Is freedom but a name 
To perish with a patriot's dust and let our country wane? 
Beside, a friend or relative may be thinking soon to teach, 
And when the funds are scattered round some voters you may 

reach; 
School work is mostly pastime, now, when holidays begin: 
Eight sessions, oftimes, fill the week and still the pay comes 

in; 

One hour for books one for recess, and then a one hour's drill 
In Cupid's arts; the young are apt, nor lack the teacher s 

skill. 
These are the merry lives they lead and none finds fanlt, we 

see, 
If schools commence at nine, half past, and closes up at three. 

And when they graduate at home and seek for more renown, 
And find they have not learned it all they can go out of town. 
Schoolhouse in the eleventh must be voted on today 
And what is to be done with it t the town willhave to say. 

The doors and glass are badly smashed, the seats no longer 

good, 
The Cuban, flag unfurls its folds where once the chimney 

stood: 






LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 56 

Tis mounted now on tempting skates, the boys assert their 

rights. 
And ask that they may run the house a coasting down the 

heights. 

The library, free, will need some funds to mend the wear and 

tear, 
Put on your gloves and go and see the thousand volumes there; 
For education need not stop where one leaves off at school, 
And infinite are wisdom's ways; life work should be the rule. 

Gray heads may ponder well this chance and think of boy- 
hood dreams, 

When wantonly with hook and line he chased the little streams : 

What splendid volumes meet your gaze, how neat they look 
and clean. 

While fiction's rags press every shelf and show their great 
esteem. 

Now, gentlemen, I've said enough, so do the proper thing. 
And vote in lump, the program's made and handled by the ring; 
'Twill save much time, result the same and bring a glorious 

close, 
Then step ontside and get a drink and seek a sweet repose. 

Where did you ask? Upon the street, a fountain flowing free 
Of sparkling waters pure and sweet, is good enough for me; 
Or, just go down the little slope within a shanty rough, 
There may fruition end in hope who wants that other stuff. 
The wails w T ill hide you from the gaze of every passerby, 
The roof will cast a darker shade more dense for angel eye, 
And safe are you from bars or fine in prohibition Maine, 
But time will reckon all the cost and politicians slain. 

We wonder that the ladies wish a hand in town affairs, 
To weave their wiles and witching smiles with diplomatic airs; 
They would but deal. the ballots out and longer make delay, 
And from another ring as large and lead our ranks astray. 

Oh! shades of Father Washington who wore an honest crown, 
Who labored for the people's good and oftimes faced their 

frown, 
Let thy pure mantle fall upon our Fatherland to-day, 
Where jobbery is the golden rule, small work, and extra pay. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES: SONGS. 



THE WHEEL GIRLS SOLILOQUY. OCT. 1897 

In style, or not to be. that's the question; — 

Whether 'twere nobler in the girl, to ape 

The beck of outrageous fashion, 

Or, take up arms against this monstrous fraud 

And dress as we've a mind to, pretty much: 

For who would freely bear the changing style, 

The extra fret and worryment of life, 

By casting off a better suit, half worn, 

If not that some wise devotee of style might 

Open wide a critic s eye and send 

A stinging arrow through the tender heart. 

Or who would walk the weary road of life 

With boots to fit the style, regardless of 

The ponderous foot within, and sentinels 

Rebellious; witnesses of the outrage, 

As photographed upon the victim's face, 

If stylish so and so, with little foot, 

Didn't start the fad and wear a toothpick boot; 

So you and I must follow o'er the drowsy earth 

All carpeted with tacks to puncture us. 

We see long dresses trailing in the mud 

And scantiness of fabric at the waist; 

And hats for ornament of tiny size 

Compared with what it cost to buy them; 

Clergymen do wear fine goods of latest cut: 

And jewels sparkle in their borrowed light; 

Flashing o'er the subject of a meagre purse: 

Thus fashion doth make cowards of us all; 

For whether in the street or banquet haiJ, 

Or dizzy dance or church attendant go, 

The silken cord of fashion weaves her web; 

It hath a thousand eyes and not a soul; 

It hath the power to make 1 the crimson cheek, 

And steal the treasure from a happy heart; 

A lit companion of the wealthy few; 

A close companion of the poor, who say 



. LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 58 

Hard times with flinty heel and heav^y weight 
Doth stagger them, and shape their politics. 

Then farewell to fashion, no longer I'll grieve, 

I'll shorten my dresses and add to the sleeve, 

The fleetest of horses, the smoke of his heel, 

I fear thee no longer when riding my wheel; 

No bird on his pinion that roams the blue sky 

Will skim o'er the landscape more swiftly than I; 

When weary with riding, in far distant grove 

I'll rest on the carpet which nature hath wove; 

Or on the green banks of a clear crystal stream 

I'll drink of its nectar and happily dream; 

When hunger gives warning, I've a luncheon close by; 

And spread out before me cold chicken and pie; 

And etiquette's doomed with the hunger I feel; 

I'd. eat a cold buzzard after riding my wheel; 

No fork here, I thank you, my fingers will do, 

The bones I'll pick clean in a minute or two; 

I'm not at all dainty such vigor I feel; 

Im never so happy as when riding my wheel; 

Then farewell to fashion with its glitter and show, 

But give me my wheel with health's ruddy glow. 

Farewell, did I tell, that's a sorrowful knell; 

Not farewell to the place where I once loved to dwell, 

For enchantment would heighten when farther away 

And friends left behind me, forgotten? Ah! nay; 

The place of my childhood, remembered no more? 

The trees 1 heavy burden of fruits mellow store, 

The wild flowers we gathered where first melts the snow 

Flat Rock so romantic where picknicers go; 

When church bells I hear as distant I roam, 

Will memory chide me of church bells at home? 

Would tidings from Winterport quicken my ear? 

Any boom of the town does there lately appear? 

Do the boys still take interest in hose house and hose? 

Are the electrics a coming? If any one knows: 

Swift winged little fairy with sinnews of steal 

What need I of pinions with you at my heel; 

Doth heart turn me homeward I ne'er would despair 

My wheel tried and trusty, I quickly am there. 



59 LOCALISMS; RHYMES: SONUS. 



FLIRTATION AND FLOWERS. 

Midsummer bloomed, and near a sluggish stream 
That drained a bog, two lovers might be seen; 

Beside the swamp far stretched the tangled wood; 
A field nearby, wherein a farmhouse stood; 

Unstained by paint; the ridge-pole settled some, 
To match the burden of a father's son; 

Askance the big barn doors that would not swing 
A porous roof to let the sunbeams in ; 

And sunflowers grew in great profusion round; 

A big dog sprung with yelp and furious bound; 
Two others followed, one dog you plainly see, 

Would not support the man, so he kept three. 

In friendly wood within the thicket, trained, 
The partridge beat his morning drum untamed, 

To draw the hunter with his wanton gun 

Away from mate, with brood of nestling young. 

Beneath a branch a huge log spanned the ground; 

And seated there, two lovers might be found; 
Nor did they sit the full logs length apart 

As lovers wo:it to do (who court by art.) 

But sat quite close, so that their language, clear, 
Might not fall heavy on some gossip's ear; 

A fog spread o'er the bog her silken veil; 
An owl perched overhead gave sudden wail, 

To let this couple know, two all-seeing eyes 

And wisdom's head, were viewing from the skies; 

What birds may witness over hill and dell 
Is more than 'overs care to freely tell. 

He'd note in hand and pen behind his ear. 

In case his brain should tackle an idea 
While in the weighty woods to jot it down 

Before oblivion gave it wings of down. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 60 



The maiden spoke while raptures filled her mind; 

What pleasures thrill when nature is inclined; 
Such landscape this do you not see a theme? 

Please write upon and highly I'll esteem. 

Pick me two flowers such as wild nature yields, 
You think the fairest of the verdant fields; 

For flowers have speech that soothes the aching brow; 
The fields are flush;— you see I'm writing now. 

She stretched her hand among the thorns o'er head 
And plucked a rose, (her cheeks almost as red) 

And with deft fingers and approving nod, 
Her second choice she made the golden-rod. 

He took the flowers which seemed supremely fair, 
Regarding more the maiden standing there; — 

" Beauty and wealth; enough, the two combined 
To turn the head of maid and all mankind. 11 

The rose and goldenrod; how made to mate? 

Since beauty fades too soon and riches come too late; 
A sprig of sage would be extremely nice, 

Not for its looks but for its mutual spice. 

A rose for beauty and to lovers sweet; 

A bridal flower, if thou didst blush less deep, 
Thy leaves are fragile and will quickly fade, 

Thy roots more hardy will outlive the spade. 

The goldenrod of deep and richest hue, 

The universal of the Union through; 
And, like its namesake, sought by all mankind, 

Those fond of gold who are not color blind. 

And here you see down in its petals deep, 
Some little bugs, herein their vigils keep; 

And this our caution doth the more expound, 
Humbugs in gold quite often may be found. 

This nosegay is a work of love divine, 

With you to love a greater worth were mine; 

I'll keep the rose, to me of gorgeous wealth, 
The rod and all its, symbols, keep yourself. 



61 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 

The flowers breathe love, and so all nature too; 

Shall we not love and be to nature true? 
He took her hand and did not even blush, 

The owl looked down to view the fearful crush. 
"So different and yet alike," said she; 

What greater wealth than love can ever be;" 
He pressed her hand and quickly gave alarm, 

The treacherous thorn had made a bleeding palm. 

Sad omen this to these young lovers bring; 

But he a bungler and deserved the sting. 
Pure love is tender like the tender flower, 

A hasty act might crush it in an hour. 

u Oh! yes kind sir, since riches flee away, 

And flowers that bloom fall quickly in decay, 
I'll seek new fields and look for fresher flowers; 

"Tis nature's plan, why should it not be ours?" 
Thus, with a smile that ended in a scream, 

She sped away and was no longer seen. 
With saddened look he said, she seeks the new; 

She too grows old, can she keep that from view?" 

Now let us hope that on some future day 
She smiled on him and did not run away; 

A little chill may give a richer hue; 

An autumn leaf is quite as bright as new. 



ACROSTIC. 
Evolved from pain there springs a tender germ: 
Leaves bearing fruitage in the frosty air: 
Love lingers there to do a kindly turn, 
Adds gentle nursing to a swift repair; 
lie thou the nurse and none a higher aim; to heal 

the sick and banish human pain. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 62 



BURLESQUE ON MAN. 

"God made the country and man made the town; 

The devil made man his greatest work to crown; 

In his own image, as the saying goes, 

What else than bad couid anyone suppose? 

To give a smile to cover up a frown; 

To get on top and get the other fellow down; 

To lie and cheat, to murder and to steal; 

To go to war with every modern deal; 

To follow fast with every evil deed; 

To drink rebellion and to use the weed; 

And long he worked in his satanic might; 

And sweetly grinned to find his work all right: 

And to his imps was very pleased to tell 

The man he'd made would answer very well. 

Were this presumption to a new made claim, 
Or off tone parent to a higher aim: 
I do not cavil to another's fad, 
Though monkey claimed he for his ancient dad: 
The fruit tells plainly of the parent tree; 
Let reason judge, and this my only plea; 
The seed that's sown produces but the same; 
If naught is good, there satan lays his claim; 
The man who boasts his origin is higher, 
Should live a life that's worthy of his sire. 

The sun rose clear and kissed the morning/lew; 
All nature smiled in wonder of the view; 
The foliage turned to greet her sparkling face 
And bended far to meet his warm embrace; 
The flowers sprang forth to yield free incense up, 
With beauteous tint and honey in their cup. 

God made the flowers for lie is love and light 

And all He made is beautiful and bright; 

The rainbow arch His bounteous love to show, 

He stretched from heaven to touch the earth below: 



63 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 



Free as they came to take or give their share 
They used the tints to clothe their beauty rare; 
The purple, orange, scarlet, blue and green; 
And from the sky adown the rainbow stream. 

Was there no eye to view the scene so fair? 
Or hand to pluck the beauties sweet and rare? 
Oh! yes, a lady came with hands outstretched; 
Who'd chase the rainbow that she could not catch; 
Around them fell bewildered with amaze, 
Nor words could find that half deserved the praise; 
G-od's handiwork stretched forth in every hue; 
And loved lurked there all hidden from the view; 
And she who touched the hues, but to admire. 
Entranced with love, she found her soul on fire: 

For God is love, naught did he make in vain; 
And what He made was not to nuture pain; 
Whate'er He touch from fountain head above, 
Forever longs for immortality and love. 

Oli ! sordid man, whereof you freely teach. 
Your sordid souls should never think to reach: 
In touch with nature one might dare to dream 
Of heavenly mansions and her sunlit gleam; 
And bowers of fragrance breathing incense rare: 
And flowers abundant, blooming everywhere; 
Melodious birds that join the heavenly throng: 
And all too full to check a flowing song: 
And animals frisking in their joyous glee, 
Hut not a man in all the realms you'd see. 

A man in heaven? that place he ne'er could win, 

Too thick his cheek, his checks are all too thin. 

A man in heaven? how quick would he locate 

And post a sign close by the pearly gate 

In letters large and flaming glitters glare 1 : 

An opium joint or liquors rich and rare; 

How soon you d hear the hum, the click, the jar 

Of moving wheels to manufacture war; 

Of high explosives (where one of human faith 

Might think that powder, sure, were fairly safe) 

The rille's crack along the sunny plain, 



5' 



3 




LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 66 

And canon thunders o'er the whole domain: 
And heaven's high arches echo to the tramp 
Of marching soldiers from their tented camp; 
And scenes fought o'er as oft on earth they saw, 
"Mid battle's havoc and the waste of war. 

A man in heaven? Ah, no! Most surely no! 

For angel hosts would flock to bar the foe 

And send petitions to the imperial throne 

'Twould reach the earth and span from zone to zone; 

And to each name a pure white lily placed, 

Such seal of truth no man has ever faced; 

To head the scroll, our Father God the prayer; 
, Man is of earth, his home, oh, keep him there; 
We've watched his every course from day to day 
And traced his paths where feet were loth to stay 
And wept as angels weep where grief appears, 
As mothers weep when fountains fail of tears 
To see her darlings fall a willing prey, 
In slippery paths along the downward way, 
And fondly wish they were her babes again 
In heavenly innocence not known to men. 
Our father God, we saw thine earth below 
With pearly streams that to the ocean flow; 
Her emerald fields with flowers of every hi; 
W^armed by the sun and watered by the dew; 
With mellow skies to hallow all by day; 
And diamonds sei to mark her night display; 
Yet beauty fades before the sight of man; 
Nor his best thought, thy mighty works to scan; 
And o'er the earth like bounding billows flow 
The wreck of war, the wails of want and woe; 
And dire disease that deals a quick decay 
Infects the old and sweeps the young away; 
The pinch of need, the greed of wealth's display, 
Lust, leaning on the lap of luxury. 
And crimes in volumes mark the dark despair; 
And jails for rogues, the rogues not all are there; 
And justice courts, which are not always just 
Pretend belief, themselves they cannot trust: 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 






An ocean's flow would scarcely wash them clean, 
Thy waters pare are made a turbid stream. 
This we submit, nor would oar choice appear 
If work of ours could make the passport clear, 
But, failing this, the angel host as one; 
And yet not ours, but thine own will be done. 

No man in heaven? oh, no! but beasts called dumb, 

Which roam the fields and speak their native tongue; 

No doubt are there and instantly would know, 

(For secrets are not there as here below) 

If man were come. The horse, that noble steed, 

Forget to prance, forget his daily feed; 

And think as when upon the earth below, 

Of how he fared and how he's forced to go; 

Kicked, clubbed and stoned and knew the whip and spur, 

And thin of meat, nor thick the well-worn fur; 

When bleak the storm the man who owned his hide 

Would shelter seek, and leave the skin outside 

(That faithfulness of horse deny who can, 

Excell the horse pitality of man) 

Could horses vote that man, allowed to come 

Could one conceive there'd be no kicking done? 

The birds of song that wake the early spring, 
And sing the songs as nature taught to sing; 
From echoing hills across the silvery lake 
A love song sweet to cheer a royal mate, 
Or squirrels, bright eyed, alert, all life withal, 
That live in holes or nest in treetop tall; 
So lithe of limb, nor wanting athlete grace 
From bough to bough, as rivals in the chase; 
And gather seed and nuts from day to day; 
That is their work, and work with them is play. 
That they are happy who could e'er gainsay; 
Who've seen them clinch and wrestle every way. 
Arms end, the backs, side hugs mid eye-balls glare 
As if a soul they had, and God was there. 
If they are shy, then man is all to blame, 
Be made them so; of birds we'd say the same. 

And here's the question, every man to say 
And heaven to witness, give the week fair play; 



LOCALISMS: RHYMES; SONGS. 68 

Who's best entitled to the realms above? 

The animals that live alone to love, 

That do no harm and manifest no hate. 

And seldom fight excepting for a mate. 

That breathe tree air and yet their course pursue. 

True to their God and to their nature true: 

Or vicious man whose work is to annoy, 

To build his own and others to destroy; 

Whose rifle's crack, well skilled and deadly aim, 

And wanton greed brings down the bleeding game: 

Who sheds no tears nor doth remorse attend, 

Bat like a foe he shooteth down a friend. 

And ends a life that but the day before 

Was sweet with song where joy was bubbling o'er. 

Though man be free as all beneath the sun; 

Diverged his path, a wretched course is run; 

Perverted tastes his gifted art employ 

Refuses gold and grapples with alloy; 

Of what is just man takes a lofty view: 

He points to right and still the wrongs pursue: 

\ ith form erect as if to heaven bound 

His ear is bent and leaneth to the ground: 

Whose caverns deep are made his earthly lair; 

Nor heavenly light can send her sunbeams there; 

The rich will grovel where their treasure lies; 

The poor for want will telescope the skies. 

Now to the question: — every man his say: 

Vote as you think and give the weak fair play; 

Shall birds that soar within heaven's walls alight. 

Or beasts that burrow find no hole by night? 

Or man of darkness, puffed by self-conceit. 

Whose course was downward, swift with willing feet: 

Would he ascend or seek a place more dim. 

And think the city far too light for him? 

Mistrust, suspect, a guilty brow beneath; 

Such dazzling brightness were a fiery heath; 

How would he know, with no kind friend to tell, 

But that bright brilliancy was all a sell? 

Man boasts him civilized! Oh! what a boast 
Were that to make to upright heavenly host! 



69 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Let angels blush and sprinkle tears red hot 
To think the world could ever show the blot: 
The germs it takes along its busy marts; 
The parting ties the living broken hearts; 
The lurking taint, the wine cups luring glow, 
The wasting draughts of misery and woe. 
My vote is yes, for birds, for love, for light, 
Though doomed my soul to an eternal night. 

The tree of Knowledge spreads her branches wide 
Nor heights nor depths can hedge her stately pride; 
Drinks from the streamlets and old ocean's wave; 
The boundless universe her architrave; 
And science feeds upon her leafy mould; 
Beholds decay and new-made worlds unfold; 
And all her branches spanning thro' the skies 
Pour down the fruitage of her rich supplies. 

Some read their doom within the leaf's decay, 

And seek her shade a partner to dismay: 

While bursting buds beneath the sunny ray, 

Cheers some to hope for everlasting day; 

Some mount by faith as if on angels wings; 

By reason seek, would some to prove all things; 

Some choose their partners where their leaves unfold, 

And make their nuptials 'neath her shades of gold; 

Some roam the lields and reap where others strew; 

And knowledge flows; the fountain tapped by few; 

Some gather high and pass the fruit along; 

While some content to join the harvest song; 

Some blithely start and soon are falling back, 

Ami gain the rut to ride the well worn track; 

Some grasp the sword that flames her warning high, 

And banners wave and shout the battle cry. 

The tree of Knowledge spreads her branches wide, 

Nor heights, nor depths, can hedge her stately pride; 

The boughs bend earthward and the fruk full grown; 

Can we not pluck and let the sword alone? 

If sentiment doth lack, lay there your blame 
And in the logic I will lay no claim. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 70 



PEN PICTURE OF CAMP ETNA, SEP. 2, 1900. 
I dressed myself from top to toe 
And to Camp Etna I did go ; 
With two fine ladies on my mind, 
And not a care for what's behind. 

When morning sun proclaimed the day ; 
We's on the road and far away, 
The air was sweet with balm distilled 
And through our veins the nectar trilled. 
The fields were fair with fruit and bloom, 
And hailed the morn the song-bird tune, 
And o'er the landscape's fertile plains 
The homes of happy men and dames. 
Far down the meadow's melting dew, 
The painted cottage scattered through, 
The fence, the fields, the outlined farms, 
The spacious yards and ample barns. 

By bounteous grace, long years ago; 
Made richer for the ocean's flow; 
The hilltops, crowned with rock and tree, 
Were islands of an unknown sea. 

Thine infant peaks, aspiring now, 
Atlantic's waters washed thy brow, 
Where now we gaze huge monsters swam; 
And ocean's billow o'er it ran. 
The smiling sun which now we see 
Has found a better use for thee. 

No more to muse o'er ancient seas 

We pass o'er hill among the trees 

Where lift their heads with power sublime, 

The hemlock and the lofty pine, 

To breathe deep draughts in eager mood 

From balsam of the Carmel wood 

Where tuft, and nook and o'er hung blade 

Tempt lovers to their cooling shade. 



71 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

An ancient road some woodman knew, 
Again the trees o'erhanging grew 
In handclasp o'er the tunnelled ways 
That pointed to the distant maze; 
'Mid parting leaves, in penciled hue, 
The mellow light came smiling through 
And on the archway's painted floor 
In red and green a carpet bore. 

A heart's delight from natures store 
The ladies saw, the rapture bore; 
With quick acclaim their voices rang 
And nearly from the carriage sprang. 

And o'er the hills we sped along 

While birds gave forth their sweet love song 

And while our course we still pursue, 

And rising dust our distant view, 

The rattling car-wheel on the rail, 

A thousand hoof beats on the trail, 

The rising hill, the clanging bell, 

The Echo, (that's the big hotel,) 

The moving throng, ail plain portend 

The campground, and our journey's end. 

Where many come with different view: 
To leave the old, to grasp the new; 
Where curious and the skeptic vie 
To lest his wit or doubt his eye; 
Some come to listen to the lore, 
Because its smart, and nothing more: 
Some seek a job, to business wed; 
Some seek a message from the dead; 
And others come, as they pretend, 
To see the show and meet a friend; 
And others came with apish care 
"Cause everybody else is there; 

And other s come with gallant pride 
Because its just a pleasant ride. 
If eye could pierce the outer crust 
Beneath the coat of peppered dust, 
The vision then would plain disclose 
That others came to show fine clothes. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 72 

Here Etna's camp of ample scope, 
Upon the bills 1 declining slope, 
A village breasts the northern breeze; 
That hides beneath her stalwart trees 
A roadway down the steep incline 
Arrests the train at camping time; 

With fiery breath and smoking sides, 
'Twixt lake and woods the engine glides 
The woods return his warning screams 
And o'er the lake his eyeball gleams; 
The hillsides tremble at his power 
But stops obedient to the hour, 

The train makes pause, his breath restore, 
From side and ends the people pour, 
The ^ar-wheels feel the lightened load, 
And speed more swift the iron road. 

To welcome bowers as nature knew, 
The crowds pass in and from the view; 
With quickened breath the cars steer clear 
Till distance lulls the listening ear. 

With measured tread, the rising hill 
In swarms the road with people fill; 
And over roots and rugged stones, 
The heart-beats of a thousand homes. 

The birds withhold their merry song 
In fright before the gathering throng; 
And squirrels, once so tame and bold 
Escape into the deepest mold. 

Return, ye birds, renew thy lays, 

We 1 11 render thee our hearty praise; 

No jealous thoughts should raise thine ire; 

Oh! birds return and lead the choir. 

Stern sentinels, the lofty trees 

Spread wide their branches to the breeze, 

And strives in vain the orb of day 

To push the somber shades away; 

And, far or near, by sight or step 

The strangled shrubs scarce intercept. 



73 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

In groups and pairs, the men and maid 
Repose within their ample shade. 
Majestic trees! The echoing tread 
Of hosts beneath thy branches spread, 
Long may the woodsman's ax disdain 
To bow thy heads for filthy gain; 
Long may the song of birds awake 
The echoes of thy placid lake; 
For other heart's responsive claim; 
Not Etna's all the sweet refrain. 

Within the woods, a hollow square, 

The trees cut out, the mold iain bare, 

And large hewed logs to make the frame, 

And boarded rough and trimmed the same; 

A monster roof to turn the .storm; 

To shield from sun since tret s were gone; 

Beneath are stumps of slow decay, 

That pierce the floor of mold and clay; 

In rows the rustic seats abound 

Along the aisle aspiring ground, 

That face the rostrum s low devise, 

That's august only for its size; 

The windows are the doors redoubt. 

The doors are but the walls left out, 

The surging crowds, the shimmering sun 

Find doors and windows all as one; 

At morning's hail or eve's adieu 

Suns golden beams come stealing through; 

'Mid dangling locks of young or gray, 

Without restraint the wild winds play. 

A line drawn down doth quickly tell 
The apex bears a swinging bell; 
And, judging from the timely din 
The wigwam has a soul within. 
A ding a dong, the sounds proclaim 
A Wiggins and a Barret s fame; 
The listening ear, the eyes' bright gleam 
Arc raptured with the newborn theme; 
The thunders from the rostrum poured 
Chain to the spot the listening horde. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 74 

The pigmy cots, outside, surround 
The mammoth audito 1 profound; 
(To gardener's gaze the symbol seems 
A pole that's planted round to beans; 
And brokers, wise, of pious pose 
Might figure on the crop that grows.) 
Save for the street, which, down below 
Makes standing for the overflow; 
And, from their doors where cotters wait, 
They hear the gospel up to date. 

Beyond the trees, to meet their need 
They reared their cots where cattle feed; 
Excelling each as new ones built 
In pastures green that flow with milk. 
There's promises in their rivaled art 
That honey flows from every heart. 

And such, each year, a pilgrim band 
Will journey to the promised land. 
Some pitch their tents of ample fold 
As did the Israelites of old: 

While most the ancient tent outgrew 
And built in style that's wholly new; 
Their righteous thoughts once built within 
So like their tents though white, were thin, 

And to their skill their arts apply 

And built of wood to catch the eye: 

With pillars like the ancient Greek, 

And combined arts which moderns seek; 

With shingles beveled to a glint 

And painted with a rainbow tint, 

Retiring gables, deeply traced. 

Overhanging roof in fancy chased. 

A room within, we scarce could doubt, 

And yet it is a room without. 

At morning hour or closing day, 

In rests retreat where soft winds play. 

On sofas deep upholstered arms 

The weary rest within her charms; 

Where youth might plight a welcome vow. 



75 LOCALI8M8; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Where age may smooth the wrinkled brow, 
Where comfort floods the heart in peace; 
Where cares may with their thraldom cease, 
For youth, by hope and fancy led, 
The vision bright and straight overhead 
While backward turns the eye of age 
And lives alone in history's page; 
Unless perchanee, with hopeful eyes 
He looks for mansions in the skies, 
There to recount the good deeds done, 
The milk that's split, the bee that stung. 

The ample streets, far stretching back. 
Outlined by cots of sardine pack, 
A spacious square, the same confine 
Of compact cot drawn in a line. 

Within the park of antique mold, 
Some scattered trees their leaves unfold, 
In friendly shade their gifts bestow 
O'er rustic bench that rests below. 
Beneath a maple's o'erhung branch 
Cold water comes but not by chance; 
The o"erworked pump rebellion shows 
Before the welcome water flows. 

There is a hall quite easy found 
Upon the left's ascending ground 
Where musics charm allures the gay 
And those who rather dance than pray. 

Down from the hill's ascending slope 
We hear the noon call's welcome note. 
And steaming viands fill the air 
That tell us of their bounteous fare; 
Nor were it just our words withhold 
Where others tongues' have freely told: 
With equal praise they all declare 
Who've had their board and lodging there. 

When morning sun dissolved the dew, 
The pressing hordes come streaming through 
And down the slopes where vision fades 
They pass from sight beneath the shades. 
While many watch in eager wait 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 76 

To see their friends pass through the gate, 

No need of speech when one has come 

For eyes beam with a magic tongue. 

Is there beyond a pearly gate, 

And friends passed on in eager wait? 

How would my eyes for joy o'errlow, 

If I could know, if I could know. 

By man forsook the dusty ways, 
At midday's bright and burning blaze, 
And boatman from the lake draws nigh 
Beneath the trees that seek the sky. 
Three thousand souls at Etna Camp 
A thousand horse their fodder champ, 
And group on group beneath the shade 
Spread out their stores of food home made. 

To smiling cheek and ready palm 

The early drive had lent a charm; 

With magic speed, to other spheres, 

The empty spread in front appears. 

Yet people eat and when survive 

Will tlrank the Lord that they're alive 

And of times sad they seldom know 

From whence their greatest blessings flow. 

The noontime passed, the speaking done, 
The message and the last song sung, 
The hammer's clang, the moving team, 
Congested roads a living stream; 
Dissolving crowds dispe?*sed in flocks. 
Woods emptied like a dinner box: 
And this the program brief expressed, 
Not speaking for the heart that's blest. 

And like the bee that's homeward bound, 
Well laden with the sweets he's found, 
From goblet s llowing to the brim 
Where breathed their fragrance deep within; 
Afar o er bill and down the glen, 
He's poised upon the slender stem; 
From clover red and chocolate brown. 
From golden rod and thistle down. 



77 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

No flower so small to meet disdain 
So long as honey may remain; 
No bloom so large to meet dismay 
But to its depths he's forced his way; 
And to his home he takes his treat, 
And all his fellows call him sweet, 
Where all is neat and all agree, 
And just as sweet as it can be; 
And as they pass among the comb 
They fondly sing of "home, sweet home. 

My theme, the language of the fields, 
ihe sweets and fragrance nature yields, 
Where rocks, the records of her pen 
Astounds! Her written word to men: 
Immutable her records show; 
Unfold the page that 1 may know; 
And store it in sweet memory; 
With home the great dispensary. 

The road reversed at setting sun; 
The teams are dropping one by one; 
Till o'er the hills long length of view 
No one to wave a last adieu. 

Our food box depths again explored, 
The bedrock for our festive board, 
Where berries, hold, within our clutch 
Their sweetest for our eager touch. 

The shadows lengthen from the trees, 
And fanned the brow by evening breeze, 
The dry moon swinging in the sky, 
Night's sable curtain lifting high, 
The horse hies off with hastening hoof 
At near approach of friendly roof: 
Another long drawn day is here, 
A footprint of the solemn year. 



In passions lierce and florid heat 'tis nature to he blunt, 
And soon we learn an easy blow is better than a thump. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 78 



TWO WAYS OF TELLING IT. 

Prosy. 

Good morning Mr. Poesy! I hope I see you well. 
Poesy. 

The stream of life runs smoothe and clear: 

The smiling sun gives warmth and cheer: 

All nature wears a winning charm, 

A willing heart, a ready palm ; 

A glorious day by sleep refreshed; 

No thought of malice in my breast. 
Prosy. 

But we art* growing old; our heads grey and some bald. 
Poesy. 

The Winter's frosts and Autumn's breeze 

Gives whitened fields and bares the trees: 

Old Father Time is getting hoar 

And every year knocks at our door. 
Prosy. 

Do you remember when we were lads how slowly the 

time went and how anxious we were to have it pass. 

Poesy. 

'Twas the Springtime of life; days mellow and slow; 

Our pulse running high, face beaming aglow; 

When old Father Time his dial did place 

At too slow a jog for childhood to chase; 

But the sun must have time in his journey around, 

So the pendulum hung and the timepiece was wound; 

The sun marked the days in her circling sphere, 

The moon marked the months to make up the year; 

Had he made the months less, from what we now know 

The apples would blight and the corn wouldn't grow; 

Now the snows beat retreat to the march of the sun; 

In the soft breeze the whisper of Spring that is come; 

The trailing arbutus from his close hiding creeps, 

From his blanket of frost most gaily he peeps. 

The birds break upon us in melodies song, 



79 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

The trump of a gabriel to wake the dull morn, 
To quicken the dead from their wintry sleep, 
For shackles to break from frost-bitten feet. 

Prosy. 

Those were happy days when we were young that we did 
not then realize, exercises and eating our greatest pleas- 
ure. 

Poesy. 

We breathed the soft air from the odorous fields; 

The balm of the flowers which the summertime yields; 

And berries and fruit that bulged our glad eyes, 

While they rushed to a spot more ample in size. 

In high living there's push and the galloping vein 

Will tickle the heel and will tackle the brain; 

Correlation of force, conservation the twin 

And the fun bubbles out where the berries went in. 

Prosy. 

It makes me sad to think of the associates of our youth 
who have stepped out and how few of them remain and 
that we, too, are fast traveling to the silent majority. 

Poesy. 

It's the Autnmn of life and the grain fully grown, 
The reaper comes round but to garner his own: 
The trees shed their fruit from their small brittle thread: 
The leaves chase the winds in the pathway we tread. 

Prosy. 

That is grim, indeed! Haven't you anything better to 
offer than that the dead leaves are chasing us? 

Poesy 

Again it is Winter, our rivers are sealed: 
The snow spreads a shroud over forest and held: 
The bloom spreading carpet of gorgeous array 
Felt the breath of the winter and fell in decay: 
In the bosom of earth lies the roots snugly wrapped. 
Till the Spri-ig shall awake from a long Winter's nap. 
Then they'll dress in a style of the season so gay, 
That the fashion plates vie but are lacking, they say: 
No king on his throne could match the array, 
Nor queen of the realm make an equal display; 
Their jewels they yield to the sun they adore 
With the stars that release all the luster they wore: 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 80 

And the riowers watch the stars as they sparkle at night 

And follow the sun in its luminous height; 

To those whom they love they will tell in their way 

And give them the time as it passes away: 

A banquet, they spread the most lovely to see. 

Of the berries unstemed and the fruits on the tree. 

And vases of flowers on the carpet of green 

As they sprang from the touch of the Artist, unseen, 

The guests were the birds and the valleys wide rang 

And the forests reechoed the toasts that they sang; 

An all summer feast, as the menu was read. 

And free for the warblers, a bountiful spread. 

Does this answer the question? Then spare me the task; 

For the leaves are now falling in the chill Winter's blast; 

I walk the crisp fields that are swift in decay 

And the question I ask, am I better than they? 

No answer they give in their freedom from cares; 

The question is mine and the secret is theirs; 

Though the darkness dispell fore the white winter's wing 

That covers her brood, some protection to bring 

To the pittance of life, where life may remain; 

'Tis a funeral march o'er the victims she's slain. 



81 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 



THE STORY OF THE SHOES. 
In quiet wood upon a summer day, 
Where curtained trees forbid the sunny ray, 
Two college students 'neath a tree reclined, 
Who sought a solace from an o'er worked mind; 
To list the music of the singing birds, 
Unmixed from strain of Greek or Latin verbs: 
To talk of prospects in the nearby days : 
The "home sick 1 ' freshman and the coming "haze. 
The catechism of a class before; 
The scant umbrella and the coming pour. 

A rustic road where lovers wont to stray; 
A stranger, bent, walked o'er the weary way ; 
And in the silence of the o'er grown trees, 
Took off his shoes and hid them in the leaves; 
With prudence prompted and his feet made bare: 
Unscathed his pride, in leather, save the wear; 
And on his way the stranger took the road 
As if life's burden was a heavy load. 

One student said, , 'while prudence is away 
Let's hide one shoe and witness his dismay. " 

•'1 wotld not add a sorrow to that head 

By grief already bowed, 11 the other said. 

"I'll put a half, you likewise do the same, 

One in each shoe and then we'll watch the game. 1 ' 

"Agreed, 11 and jovial to the hiding go, 

A. silver half they dropped in either toe; 

Replaced the shoes precisely as they found, 

And where to hide they next were looking round; 

Some nearby spot amidst the leafy green, 

Where they could see and still could not be seen; 

And there to wait the lazy hours go by ; 

To watch the bees or brush a savage rly. 

Some people wait for footwear of the dead, 

While these watch o er the path the living tread: 

With livid thoughts and light the hearts concern 

They earnest wait the ''travelers 1 ' swift return. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 82 

But soon he comes with bowed and languid gait 
Whose back seemed yielding to a mental weight; 
And all his vision where his pathway led, 
Nor gleamed for him the sunny rays overhead. 

The shoes secure, within he plants afoot; 

What's that inside? A stone, perchance a root; 

Off comes the shoe, outcomes the silver coin; 

How came it there? I'm sure it is not mine; 

How came the money there? Is this not strange? 

He raised his eyes that took a sweeping range; 

No sound is heard, no person that he sees; 

Except the birds or sound of droning bees; 

Or bounding hearts beneath the students 1 vest # 

That strove to leap the confines of the breast; 

Mistook by him for plover's distant hum, 

Or far off partridge at his evening drum. 

"The piece is mine as far as I can see 

But how it camera mystery to me: 

Kind Providence, perhaps, hath done the deed: 

Unworthy me. how vastly great the need'' 

He plants his foot within the other shoe 

Another fifty dazzles in his view; 

He rubs his eyes to make his vision sure; 

He clinks the coins to see that they are pure; 

"The mystery great I never can explain: 

So Providence, to thee, I grant all claim. '* 

On bended knee he poured his heart of hearts. 

As strongmen pray when want and faith imparts: 

As only prays who knows his little brood 

Is poorly clad and pinched for proper food. 

In bush, nearby, some ears were willing bent; 
Xo gift before was half so proudly spent: 
And hearts grew soft to see the man so meek. 
And tears welled down the manly students' cheek. 

The tale is old; I've read in old style type. 
When /and h were made so much alike: 
But now and then the press again renew 
And dress it up and make the story new; 
And none doth follow to the very letter: 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



The story good then why not make it better? 
And what if I, for rhyme or cast c.-f care 
Should shade a word, or deviate a hair? 

In last account and of a recent date 

The students followed, as I here relate, 

To know their duty, or in need of care; 

Why he so thankful for so small a fare. 

That he was needy it was easy found; 

That he was worthy was a fact profound: 

In want of clothing and in want of food, 

He'd stuffed his pride and starved his little brood; 

The overseers informed, without delay 

The town relieved which was the proper way. 

I like the story for it has a charm ; 

What if I add a mite, is't any harm? 

And wish the man might learn to smile with cheer: 

And look above and see the skies more clear; 

And see the rift not off so very far 

And see beyond the "pearly gates ajar; 11 

And, looking down, no sadder be his muse 

Than metal tips upon his children's shoes. 

And further say the students reached renown; 
And in their riches goodness did abound: 
That people loved who met their kindly gaze; 
On every tongue was but the words of praise; 
When they were wed they lived 'neath happy skies; 
And when they met they saw in each a prize; 
,. That they got wealth and knew what wealth could do 
By that small fifty in the prudent shoe: 
And all who knew were of them justly proud 
For there the "lining of the silvery cloud. 11 

And for good deeds the place was noted round: 

And got the sobriquet of Fairy Town; 

And boys saved pennies that they need not use 

For needy poor who wore the worthy shoes; 

For they believed that all who planted so 

Within their path a bounteous crop would grow: 

A town that's famous for her lovely boys; 

That filled their homes with smiles and peaceful joy:.. 

Nor Independence with its fiery crack 



LOCALISMS; KHYMES; SONGS. 84 

jiired them from duty in a wayward track: 

kindly deed was all their constant aim 
Lnd saw no fun in causing others pain; 
Lnd July Fourth slipped peacefully away; 
In other towns the lawless had their way: 
^s if a cyclone had its merry times ; 
Upsetting sidewalks and in moving signs. 

In fairy town the sick could peaceful rest: 

Lnd all might sleep and wake the morn refreshed: 
And view the sun in all her glory dressed; 

ind smiling o'er the village in her best; 

freedom to them meant freedom of the right; 

tfot sun for him who bars another's light. 

In Fairy town it was not always fair; 

For tiheves prowled round who walked the midnight air; 

Strong, able bodied men, if we may call them men, 

Who sneaked in darkness from a coward's den, 

To visit fields where some poor man hath strown, 

And thin the flocks most surely not their own, 

And filch from widows their last turk or hen, 

These scamps unworthy, these substitutes for men\ 

This bred dissension in the Fairy place. 

Where love had lulled, there came the ) frowning face. 

And deepest anger curdled in the breast 

By indignation' 1 * strongest forces pressed. 

The young folks talked of gunning right away, 
Of hunting neckties in a knowing way ; 
And by the fierceness of the eyeball's glare 
The deacon feared the "kids would learn to swear. 

The solemn Sabbath pealed the morning bell: 

The choir's soft music on the fairies fell: 

The "Ninety and Nine 1 , that thrilled from pew to pew: 

The story old, the hymn hath made anew; 

The parson rose in softly solemn way: 

His heart seemed filled, his words met some delay: 

A loving soul withii his bosom swell: 

Down o'er his cheeks the rapid tear drops fell: 

His theme was love; his words of fitting choice 

That flowed on smoothly from his sweet toned voice: 

'•Live but to love, be that vour constant care: 



85 LOCALISMS; RHYMES: SONUS. 

God leaves the heart when anger rankles there; 

For u God is love" and does not harbor hate; 

And love and anger are no willing mate; 

As you uplift the fallen from the mire. 

Your soul uplifts and makes your standard higher; 

And ere the setting of the Western sun 

Release thy malice for the wayward one; 

A better weapon, and unerring too 

Than bail and powder, is in reach of you; 

Where walks be lowly and sharp thorns infuse 

Think of the story of the silvered shoes: 

Diviner art hath paved the way in love 

That rifts the clouds, that leads to light above; 

Forsake the darkness of the misty shroud, 

For -'lined with silver" is the darkest cloud; 

None are so good but bears the earthly taint, 

And none so bad that good hath no acquaint. 



THE EASIEST WAY IS THE BEST WAY. 
When your pathway is uncertain 

And you seek the topmost crest, 
Take the road that's mostly traveled; 

Then the easy road is best; 
If your back is made of whalebone 

And your shoulders broad and stiff, 
You may venture on to glory 

Up the tangled, rugged cliff. 



-*8M 




LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 86 



A BRIEF DEFINITION OF POETRY. 

Poetry is the music of words corresponding to the senti- 
ment and arranged with a regularity of accented and unac- 
cented sylables which should also correspond or harmonize 
with the sentiment. 

Were this too brief to suit a higher claim 

Of Bards who write upon a lofty plain; 

Who breath the sonl of all created things 

Who bring the dead to life and giveth wings; 

A cloud his chariot that's harnessed to the breeze, 

Whose thunderbolts are forged in molten seas; 

( Where vulcan fitful blows from ruddy cheek 

His fiery blasts from out the mountain peak; 

And lightnings flashing over all our lands, 

The finished product from from his nimble hands; 

On airy scroll he writes in heavy lines; 

Speaks while he writes with thunder in his rhymes;) 

Who hear the "morning stars together sing 1 ' 

And through the corridors of heaven ring; 

Who hear the "mountains clap their happy hands; 1 ' 

Am\ laughter ripples down the sloping sands; 

To time gives fingers that the poet sees 

Remove the hills and plant them in the seas; 

And paint the fields in soft perenniel bloom; 

And build for worlds a universal tomb; 

And I suspect some bards among the throng 

Were taught by Cupid in the art of song; 

With finer fiber and a fertile mind 

And waxen hearted of the melting kind: 

And some, it seems write with a seraph quill 

Dipped in the dews where mellow rays distill: 

As if their thoughts were in another sphere 

And frail the thread that bound them with us here; 

A thousand thousand that would wreck my mind, 

Where poets see and I am color blind; 

A page i r two that critics call the best 

Is all that 1 can read without a rest: 

While they sublimely roam the misty deep, 

.1. from my little window shyly peek: 

So I'm content that each his own define: 

My efforts frail I simply call them rhyme. 



-f&$$ &\-^ .<$)^ 



S01IGS. p^ 



*ts< 



91 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



WRITTEN FOR DEDICATION OF FRKE MASON'S 
HALL, DIXMONT. 
Air: Star Spangled. Banner. Oct. 17, 1867. 
Oh, how dear is the spot on the spur of the hill, 
That so proudly gives cheer to the morning's first gleaming; 
Where onr temple we've reared and our bosoms doth thrill; 
*Tis our embryo home that's aroused from its dreaming; 
'Tis to shelter the band with a fostering care, 
And a strong vigil keep with the level and square; 
'Tis the hall of Free Masons and long may it stand 
As a temple of strength and a power in the land. 

I have breathed the pure air from thy mountainous hills. 

Overtopping the vale and the flowering meadow; 

Her fair fertile slopes where the dew first distills, 

And the dentinal peaks where they cast their long shadow: 

I've been lulled to sweet sleep by her musical streams: 

And lured like a babe in sweet innocent dreams; 

And here stands the hall that is luring us on 

The temple we've reared, 'tis the temple "Areon. 1 * 

And the ones who have built with a patience and zeal: 

The workers and tillers our hillsides adorning: 

With a true trusting heart and sinnews of steel, 

Whose voices we've heard with the birds of the morning: 

Who are skilled in the craft, and schooled in the arts, 

And bound to the cause in a union of hearts; 

Neither boasting nor yielding for our cause that is grand; 

At the temple we'll meet and fraternal our hand. 

May the lodge that we love, now a year old it seems, 
Stand as long as the mount where the eagle is screaming, 
And aspire like her hills, and as pure as her streams, 
And as fertile as fields where the reaper is gleaming; 
Neither shade cloud her sun in the race now begun, 
And all bear a charm for new members that come: 
And turn a soft eye in a neighborly aim; 
Remindful to do full as much as to gain. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 92 



the NIGHT SHADES. 

1867. s 
The smiling sun forearms the day for rogues eschew the light; 
In darker shades the just repose and thieves prowl round by 

night; 
It's then that Dixmont's fertile fields to Jordan's waving 

plains 
Invites the lazy sneak who drives to filch another's gains. 

Those racked with fear and dire alarm, I'd point to more than 

one, 
Like Ruel who has brought to use a long neglected gun: 
The extra sweat that Sammy got when Tige was stole away; 
Of Lincoln's grief and Bartlett's geese. Oh ! the Dicken's is 

to pay. 

Now some will ask in pensive grief who this poultry thief 

can be: 
Some say it is the soldier lad or sailor of the sea; 
The flinty hard tack, bullet proof, that langnished through 

the war 
Is not the kind that's foraged for when there are turks to 

gnaw. 

Complacent Jack and Harry Gill are playing off their charms; 
They take Miss Pink and Fairy Rose and fold them in their 

arms; 
But could the hills of Dixmont speak uncle Ed would take 

alarm 
And father Dave would give a shout 'twould wreck most any 

barn. 



GOING HOME WITH THE GIRLS. 
Johnny McDuff was a jolly young lad; 

He went to the meetings for the fun to be had: 
O'er the frosty fields where the wild wind whirls, 

He'd wait at the door to go home with the girls. 

But Johnny, one night, made a wretched mistake, 
He took the wrong girl and it made his heart ache: 



93 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

O'er the frosty fields in midwinter's chill, 

'Twas over a mile o'er the bleak "Hardy hill. 11 

The journey half made and deep his concern, 

As the wild winds blew, of his safe return; 
His arm took a slip and he took to his heels 

And left her alone in the frosty fields. 
O'er the hills, like the wind, an idle tale goes, 

As hard to outstrip or to cause its repose; 
The joke his companion that followed his heel 

To the place where he sleeps in the frosty field. 

Goes the news, like the wi:id, at a perilous rate, 

And gathers the rubbish with its freedom of freight; 

The acts of our lives will follow our heels 

To the place where we sleep in the frosty fields. 

Some parties went gaily not minding the chill, 
In life's first adventures, of the perilous hill; 

But wished, later on they'd taken their heels 
And left their companion in the frosty fields. 
Use last line of each verse for chorus. 



FREE HIGH SCHOOL SONG. 
Air: Red, White and Blue. 1874. 
Education's the chief of the nation; 
The life of the land that is free; 
That will shield us from tr/anny's despots, 
And nourish proud liberty s tree. 
Long chant we in heart swelling music 
More knowledge and wisdom to see; 
Three cheers for the days of free knowledge; 
Three cheers for the schools that are free. 

We trust not the vain politician 

To keep this proud Union in place; 

Free thinkers, hard drinkers and swindlers 

Would soon bring this town to disgrace: 

But knowledge, spread freely among us 

Should make us more fully agree; 

Three cheers for the days of free knowledge; 

Three cheers for the schools that are free. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 94 

Neither trust we the fast growing Grangers 

To keep this proud Union in trust; 

A good woman's school for a quarter 

Would help them to reckon their dust; 

Intelligence only brings safety, 

In this we must ever agree; 

Three cheers for the days of free knowledge 

Three cheers for the schools that are free. 

Sharp lires have rained upon *Sodom 

And yet she is slumbering in guile; 

Hot peltings from pulpits were useless; 

Let knowledge flow in for a while; 

Let knowledge that comes from the schoolroom; 

Sweet knowledge there's welcome for thee; 

Three cheers for the days of free knowledge ; 

Three cheers for the schools that are free. 

*A name given a place on the South road in Newburg. 

THE RACES. 
Air: Billy Barlow. 
This wide world Iv'e traveled all over and through 
And men of all nations I've seen every hue: 
For cranks and conundrums, for talents and worth 
Young Newburg is sweepstakes for the races of earth. 
Chorus; — Oh! Oh! they never are slow 
To scare up from trifles a mighty great show! 

Such swarms to a horse trot can never be beat 

As seen on the ice at the close'of the week, 

To show their fast stock which the owners call sound 

Though foundered before and are spavined all round. 

Cho. 
A Ave dollar purse as the hat is passed round; 
The jockeys to blow makes indeed a great sound; 
King Millman to time them there's never a lack 
With a four minute horse on a half mile track. 



Cho. 



All sects since the world in Newburg you'll find. 
From the morally weak to the mentally blind; 
The Advents and Spiritists and all up to date 
Are pressing their course at the liveliest rate 



Cho. 



95 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONUS. 



While old folks are drowsy and willing to wait, 
The youngsters are in it a two-forty gait; 
The chappies go courting before they can shave, 
The girls are so fast old folks have to cave. 

Oho. 

Every twelve year old fellow to see the girls goes, 
Every girl aged f. urteen has three or more beaus: 
No lady in Newburg so great or so small 
But has a piano and a huge ^waterfall. 11 

Oho. 
She's doctors and fiddlers and preachers a few 
Who quarrel sometimes same as other folks do; — 
And while we may smile at gossipers 1 frowns 
We think they're no better in neighboring towns. 
*A fashionable way of wearing the hair at that tiine. 



FAST HORSES AND FAST PEOPLE. 

Air: Bob Ridley. 1878. 
A fever raged in Newburg city: 

Blood run high but that's no pity; 
To old and young the fever came ; 
The fast horse fever was its name. 

Cho: Whoa, horse jockey etc. 

High Feeder long has had the fever 
And long has kept an old red breeder, 

And herds of colts press on his brain; 
The Oideons get his hay and grain. 

Cho. Whoa, High Feeder etc. 

King Jockey, too has been well shaken: 

Other "fevers" he has taken; 
Long ago he got his fill. 

For a jockey race is a race down hill. 

Whoa, King Jockey etc. 

Good Millman swapped with a Bangor Willie, 
He saw the joke where the land was hilly; 

Heels were light, the team moved slow: 
There was no need of saying whoa. 

Whoa, (tooc! Millman etc. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 96 

But the horse's not all that's fast and gritty; 

The folks are fast in Newburg city; 
Hard times are greeted with a smile, 

And swift it goes for the latest style. 

Whoa, fast people etc. 

Young men in town are mostly single; 

l Tis not because they lack the jingle: 
In the race of life in a double team 

A well matched pair is seldom seen. 

Whoa, men and ladies etc. 

The girls about are smart and wilty ; 

They groom so nice we think them pretty: 
Some call them fast with rare a gem; 

But they're not so fast as the married men. 
Whoa, married people etc. 
The Grange though fast is doing finely; 

Like well trained steeds they work more kindly ; 
The tongue to curb 'tis well to know 

When it should stop as well as go. 

Whoa, fast Grangers etc. 

A Christian race is always timely 

Though creeds, sometimes, may ride on blindly; 
But rapid riding o'er the plains 

Is seldom done with crossed up reins. 

Whoa, good people etc. 

Now Newburgh folks ride each your hobby: 

Drive the one you think is nobby; 
Be sure you're right and time will show 

There'll be no need of saying whoa. 

Whoa, Newburg people etc. 



HOBBIES. 

Air: The Solid Rock. Mar. 16, 1878. 
Is this your theme and nothing less 

That what you seek is happiness? 
Then you should view as on you glide 

The hobbv horse you chance to ride. 



97 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Chorus. 
In life's long race none need to fear 
To help up those found in the rear. 

You talk of horses here in town; 

Of Gilbreth Knox and Giddeon, 
But other hobbies take their place; 

The hobbies of the human race. 

With some it is the temperance cause; 

In politics or dog tax laws; 
Some make a hobby, it is strange; 

Of gospel rules and of the Grange, 

Some drive the best another's steed 
And pay the bills and furnish feed; 

Some watch more close another's lines 
And groan about the dull, hard times. 



Cho. 



Cho. 



Cho. 



Some drive their gay sectarian steeds 
And swarp them off to meet their needs; 

Some strike a circle to go round, 

Land where they start or underground. 

Cho. 

Some drive on swiftly for a day 

And soon are falling by the way : 
The steady driver leads the van; 
A reckless hobby drives the man. 



Cho. 



Just view the ground and you'll confess 
That all have hobbies more or less; 

In justice, then, we've naught beside 
But to wish all a pleasant ride. 

God speed the just who lead the van; 

Lift up the one in sinking sand, 
And if outsped oh, n3ver mind, 

The winning horse is still behind. 



Cho. 



Cho. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 98 



STEP INTO THE WAGON. 
Air: Wait For The Wagon. Jan. 23, 1875. 
We hail thee brother Patrons and sisters by your side, 
Aboard the Grangers' wagon where farmers now may ride; 
Too long we've been the pack-horse and now we'll be to blame 
As we're aboard the wagon if we don't hold the rein. 

Oho. Step into the wagon etc., and farmers take a ride. 

The wagon rides so easy and yet 'tis very strong, 
We do not fear its breaking 'twill hold the gathering throng; 
It has in it good timber, the heart of laborers true; 
And just the kind of mettle to help the farmers through. 

Cho. 

The wagon is a Western cart a speeding o'er the plain, 
To carry off our produce and bring us Western grain; 
''Twill break we hope, monopolies those mountains on the way 
Run down the credit system, and bring the better day. 

Cho. 

The "Stars ' are fast arising to bring that better day; 
The "Eastern 1 * first appearing to pioneer the way; 
Great constellations rising that Herchel never knew; 
The "Northern Light 11 is streaming to guide the farmer through 

Cho. 

There's a "Rising Star" inNewburg, one "Blazing" at Mon- 
roe; 

One twinkles out in Jackson with "Progress" all aglow; 

Now they push on from Glenburn they're coming thick and 
fast; 

And Hermon joins the "Union*' long may the "Union" last. 

Cho. 

There's a Harvest Moon" in Thorndike that swells the flow- 
ing tide; 
The shepherds young in astral are gazing on with pride; 
* Queen City" dots the river, one of the starry sheen; 
There Hall with mental vigor is hauling in the team. 

Cho. 



99 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



The u North Star" gilds the mountain and lends another ray; 
Young mariners and bondmen pursue the constant way; 
Long may its strong attraction draw laborers to their Grange; 
'Til Dixmont heeds the compass, 'til liberty obtains. 

Cho. 

'Tis said there are outsiders who do not like our style. 
Who think we ride a hobby in hopes to make a pile; 
So often they've been cheated they fear to join the Grange: — 
They have no lack of dignity, we hope they don't in brains. 

Cho. 

And some are looking sharply across the dusty plain, 
To see if all goes smoothly aboard the Granger train; 
To those who thus are waiting I'll freely give my mind; 
Don't be waiting for the Wagon when the wagon's not behind. 

Cho. 
Those riding in the wagon I've just a word for you, 
That each fill well his station and you'll ride safely through; 
If you jostle one another and speak too much your mind, 
They'll drop you at the station and you'll be left behind. 

Cho. 

OIL UP THE "WAGON". 

Am: Wait For The Wagon. 1876 

I've a word about the "wagon" and will name it if you choose; 

The wear and tear of running and about the quarter's dues; 

The "Wagon" has been running, (though it *backed up for 

a while. ) 
For a plump and even quarter, now it needs a little "ile'. 

Cho. Then oil up the "Wagon" etc., more safely you will ride. 

Three months make up the quarter and that has passed they 

say, 
All Fools' Day brings another; no fooling this away; 
You've been blaming Bro. Hussey because he did not say 
At the close of every quarter that there were dues to pay. 

Cho. 

Last March closed up the quarter and, Patrons, if you choose, 
March round and see the Bro. and settle up your dues; 
I know 'twill make him happy for he is fond of "tin;' 
He'll pass it to the Treasurer, 'twill also make him grin. 

Cho. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 100 

This is a safe investment and joy it brings untold; 
For harmony and union are more to us than gold; 
And while you drop your quarters to swell the common fund 
Let's stronger grow in union "til our great work is done. 

Cho. 

But when oar Master Clements is inclement with his steam 
It takes a rapid * Walker to keep up with the team: 
And when the thing needs greasing, all axles do, you know, 
A little *Ham will answer to make the "Wagon" go. 

*Grange suspended by Amasa Walker Feb. 6, 1875 and rein- 
stated by State Master Ham, March 13, 1875. 



QUARTER'S DUES. 
Air: Wait For The Wagon. 1876. * 
I've a word about the "wagon 11 and will name it if you choose; 
The wear and tear of running and about the quarter's dues; 
We've near one hundred passengers that ride aboard this train; 
It's been running for a quarter and needs oiling up again. 

Cho. Oil up the "wagon 1 ' etc., and more safely you will ride. 

*Tis thirty cents each member, as very well you know, 
To be paid up every quarter to make the "Wagon' 1 go: 
Our State dues come off shortly, the first day of July; 
Don't try your Ham, dear Patrons, nor run the "Wagon" dry. 

Cho. 

Our committee here on finance have been taking in the freight 
Of coffee, tea and sugar and other kinds of bait; 
Now while your coffee settles and you're telling o'er the news 
Just form the settled habit of settling up your dues. 

Cho. 

We hear the story told us that two hundred years have passed 
Since our forefathers fought for freedom and they won the 

field at last; 
Are our battles not as worthy for the tillers of the soil, 
Though we use no ball and powder but the magic power of oil. 

Cho. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



A GRANGE SONG. 
Air: Root Hog Or Dle. 
The Grangers round about us are cutting a great swell; 
And when they'll end their wild career 'tis difficult to .tell; 
They number now by millions and progress is their cry; 
They meet all opposition with u root hog or die. 1 " 

Chorus, 
Hurrah three cheers the Grange is on the plan 
To elevate the farmer and to make a better man; 
The ladies join the chorus and unitedly we cry 
Big pig, little pig, root hog or die. 

There was Adam in the garden(a matter very strange) 
Had made a plan with sister Eve to organize a Grange; 
They talked with certain parties, 'twas done upon the sly, 
They landed on a rocky farm to root hog or die. 

Cho. 

Thus good and evil started and here we also find 
That farmer's toil gave little chance to cultivate the mind; 
But now the gates are some ajar there's promise if we try. 
To be of other service than to root hog or die. 

Oho. 
The farmers here in Newburg most loudly did complain: 
They organized a Farmer s Club and bio wed with might and 

main ; 
But whether Club or Granger this thing they did descry 
Instead of talking they must go and root hog or die. 

Cho. 

Now when the grange was started twas in a quiet way 
O'er sanguine eyes could see no night but one eternal day: 
If now yi u face a Granger and look him in the eye 
You'll see the lesson he has learned, to root hog or die. 

Cho. 
The Grange here lacked an organ and the sisters did agree 
That they would raise the money by having a levee; [fry, 

Charades were learned and cakes were made and lots of other 
For several days before the time 'twas, root hog or die. 

Cho. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 102 

Full forty dollars on that eve was made from quilts and things. 
And thus you see the sure reward that labor always brings; — 
Hark to the music of the thing this money is to buy; 
It is the key note of success, root hog or die. 

Cho. 

This world is a great "grab bag 11 where those who pay may 

grab : 
But the one who gets the treasure is the one who holds the bag; 
Now Grangers hold the bag awile, let politicians buy, 
Let middle men join in the song of root hog or die. 

Cho 
Although the Grange is started and making quite a sound 
We fear there's many a Patron who is rooting under ground ; 
And birds must get their plumage before they learn to fly; 
So Grangers ere you take to wings, root hog or die. 

Cho. 

Now, Patrons, Tve a word for you and every mother's son, 
Don t look too much among the "Stars," there's. rooting to be 

done; 
Root out the tares, root in the wheat, root sorrow from the 

eye. 
Root farmers root, root Grangers root, root hog or die. 

Cho. 



ATTENTION ON THE "WAGON. 
May T, 1881. 
A word about the "Wagon" its been running seven years; 
The speed begins to slacken and there's trouble in the gears; 
The freight is not so heavy and as the matter stands 
The drivers are absenting and calls for section hands. 

Chorus. 
Attention on the " wagon" attention on the "wagon"" 
Attention on the "wagon"' in the darkness of the hour. 

The passengers are leaving and looking we've no doubt 
For a fairer line of travel on a some more pleasant route; 
Thus far theve rode on safely and judging from their tones 
They do not fear upsetting, there's been no broken bones. 



103 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



Cho. 

'Tis time to call attention from the long and pleasant ride 
To things we would not mention but fear to let them slide; 
'Tis time to reckon profits and set the matter right, 
And overhaul the baggage; that may shed a little light. 

Cho. 

Now those who have invested and think you've dearly bought, 
The company your re keeping, just take account of stock; 
Would you trade off the old 'wagon*" that only needs the u ile 
And take another mule team just for the sake of style? 

Cho. 

'Tis time to call attention, we have no heart to blame; 
We love the cause too dearly to pause and see it wane; 
This rolling stock dear Patrons is music to the ear, 
When all is gliding smoothly and nothing out of gear. 

Cho. 

Attention on the "wagon 11 is what we need, you know, 
^will straighten out the mule team, 'twill feed and make it go, 
'Twill lubricate the bearings and choose a smooth highway; 
And passengers will gather for pleasure and for pay. 

Cho. 



INSTALLATION. 

Air: Say Darkies All. 1877. 

Say, Patrons have you heard the trader complaining o'er the 

land, 
Because the Grangers out in Newburg built a peanut stand? 11 
Because, say they, hard times are coming no money can be 

made ; 
All business dull, none dare to venture for the Grange lias 
killed the trade. 

Cho. 
Now farmers, one and all, 
There^ something you may do; 
But mind you this, and don't forget it 
Keep union through and through. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 1U4 

the Grange comes round to do our grinding and no barm do 

we propose. 
But grind the corn of our own raising, not the corn of other's 

toes : 
Then swell the song while stars grow brighter; let union join 

the train 
And welcome toil in the Held of labor in the harvest of the 

brain. 

Cho. 

While the farmer toils and builds his fences and sows broad- 
cast his field, 

The politician guards the ''gateway"' and tolls him half the 
yield, 

Then Patrons join to do your duty and what is right, maintain 

Till the nation's heart throws health and vigor though every 
laborers vein. 

Cho. 

While new-made lights press thickly round us and join the 
Starry school, 

There's room enough for all the shiners; observe the "Golden 
Rule;" 

Let the rising "Stars'" sing out together: each send her mel- 
low ray : 

Nor care which one may glow the brighter till they set in the 
coming day. 

Cho. 

And while we view the shades around us and strive for nobler 
deeds, 

'Tis well that each watch well his garden and check the grow- 
ing weeds ; 

Nor scan too close our neighbor's vineyard to see the foul seed 
grown; 

Our own proud hearts may need a weeding, if so, first weed at 
home. 

Cho. 

Again w T e meet at installation; 'tis twice we've met before 

And placed the badge of highest honor the farmer ever wore. 

While some step up and others downward, or new ones fill 
the chair; 

Thanks to the old, the new ones welcome; but union every- 
where. 

Cho. 



105 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



LOOKING. 

Air: I's Going To The Shocking. Aug. 7, 1878. 
I's just come out afore you to sing a little song 
About the folks in Newburg and those who chance along; 
I hear you's dreffnl wicked, I's just come out to see: 
I's a white man here dis morning but den you know 'tis me, 

Chorus. 
Oh, people of the Sonth road just look around and look; 
De middle road and Dixmont way down to Jordan brook; 
Just take dis darkies warning, don't be waiting 'til de morning; 
Be looking round and looking, be looking round and look. 

If all de stories going were made into a song, 
About de folks in Newburg and those who chance along 
And sung upon the rostrum 'twould make a nigger pale; 
He'd be looking for de watch-house and a ride upon de rail. 

Cho. 

Dis darkey has been looking to see what he can see; 
He sees der is no trouble when white folks all agree; [case 
And when de white man's heart am black der's trouble in his 
And when you see de heart am right no matter boutde face. 

Cho. 
I just come out afore you to sing a little song 
About de folks in Newburg and the se who chance along; 
And while I hab been looking, I find it am de case 
To mind another's business am not dis darkies place. 

Cho. 



ELDER BERRY. 

Air: Robert Ridley. 
An elder came to this fair city; 

A little wild and more's the pity; 
Convivial face, world wide his fame, 
And Elder Berry is his name. 
Cho. Ho! Elderberry ho! etc. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 106 

Twas first the bush and then the berry; 

And then the juice that makes one merry; 
To many homes his prestige came, 
And many learned to love the same. 

Cho. 
Some brothers, he who'r close and handy; 
Twin whiskey, Cider, Rum and Brandy, 
And, sweet, the thunder of their tones 
Brings many to their marrowbones! 



Cho. 



Their converts are, alas! too many; 

Converting wealth to not a penny; 
Converting health to wreck and pain, 

And joyful hearts to deepest shame. 



Cho. 



Converts the step that once was steady; 

Converts the head and makes it giddy; 
And what sad end do you suppose 
Must follow where the spirit goes; 

Cho. 
At wrestling too he is quite clever: 

Though deep the mud or fine the feather; 
Skill and strength has no fair show; 
The one the Elder grasps he'll throw. 

Cho. 
These clerics came to spend the season 

Low their haunts and high their treason; 
And, if you follow to their fold, 

You'll learn the place that's seldom cold. 

Cho. 
Whence came these brusk and ardent gentry? 

Fresh from your grain fields growing plenty ; 
Now count the cost, their long delay, 
Who riot in the world's decay. 

Cho. 

Wide flush the fields and great the Giver; 

Distiller's waste from us deliver; 
A nation's peril bids you rise, 

Your firesides and its tender ties. 

Cho. 



107 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

How harmless beams the smiles of Elder? 

Bred at home what harm can tender? 
A single thread; a cable tow, 

That leads the hosts to utter woe! 

Kind friends, I'll tell you in a twinkle, 
Do not either dip or sprinkle; 

And Elder Berry and his clan 
Td vote to either jug or hang. 

Chorus to last verse. 

Ho! Elder Berry ho! 

And all your clans in woe! 
'Gainst nations greatest, earnest foe; 

We'll strike our strongest blow. 



TEMPERANCE. 
Air: America. 
Temperate in f( od and drink; 
Temperate in what we think 
And what we say ; 
Temperate in daily care; 
In rest or over wear; 
Excess is but a snare 
From day to day. 

Temperance is but a name: 

Living is wholly gain 

For all that's good: 

Better the homes and friends; 

Longer the life attends; 

Better the drama ends, 

Live as we should. 

Tis nature's first great law; 
A balm for every flaw; 
Temperate in all. 
Then lift your standard high, 
And temperance be your cry; 
"Tis good for earth or sky: 
For great or small. 



Cho. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 108 

A law for perfect health; 
A law for worldly wealth; 
A sunny morn; 
And for our morals, too; 
And Christians 'tis for you; 
For every perfect view; 
Milleniurn's dawn. 

'Tis well in every cause 

Sometime to make a pause 

From over zeal; 

A good cause pressed too far 

Might make a fatal jar; 

To progress be a bar; 

Or trig a wheel. 



POLITICIANS. 
Air: Root Hog Or Die. Jan. 6, 1880. 
Politicians round about us are warming up the air, 
And the bounties of their knowledge they are spreading ev- 
erywhere; 
But the country would be better most freely we'd confess, 
If they'd do a little better and would talk a little less. 

Chorus. 
Hurrah, three cheers most heartily they cheer; 
Election time is nearing politicians too are near; 
Republicans, Greenbackers and Democrats you spy; 
Big pig, little pig, root hog or die. 

If you watch the several parties you'll find they work to win 
And they're hard to drive to duty when they're at the public 

bin; 
Some animals are like them, you'll find them in the sty: 
Big pig, little pig, root hog or die. 

Cho. 

You'll elect some politician who meets your best ideas, 
And soon will find your man elect is mostly snout and ears, 
r Jhen you'll join another party where office seekers ply 
And still it is the same old song of root hog or die. 

Cho. 



109 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Why talk of honest parties? The thing has never been; 
To find an honest party first find your honest men; 
Don't look 'mong politicians, too useless far to try: 
For 'tic big pig, little pig root hog or die. 

Cho. 

Now if you love your country or care for it a straw, 
Vote for a staunch impartialist to execute the law: 
Impartial to his party, his Country be the cry: 
Big pig, little pig, root hog or die. 

Cho. 

Now, listeners, I've a word for you, please heed it every one, 
You've always been a rooting yet there's more that should be 

done; 
Root out bad men, root in the good, who'd ever scorn to lie; 
Root laborers root, root farmers root, root hog or die. 

Cho. 



THE TEMPERANCE BANNER. 
Air; Stak Spangle j Banner. June 29, 1901. 
Oh! say can you see through the year's misty flight 
What so proudly we hail as the day dawn is gleaming; 
Where a true loyal band throng h the perilous fight 
O'er the ramparts unfurled and so valiantly streaming; 
The hosts gathered there and the white ribbon fair 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; 
Oh our loved temperance banner, long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

Oh say can you see to the front and the rear; 
All over the earth to the most distant nation, 
The fast swelling ranks of the brave volunteer, 
Wherein is our hope for the cause in probation; 
Though the tear dim the eye and our hearts beating high 
Our banners unfurled where the earth meets the sky; 
Oh our loved Tempeiance banner, long may it wave 
O'er the lands of the earth and the homes of the brave. 

Oh say can you see there's a dawning more fair 

From the dark gloomy night, where justice laid bleeding, 

Where our flag proudly floats in the ambient air, 

An emblem of hope for a better than seeming; 

For our homes that are dear, for friends that are near, 




MRS. J. W. HUSSEY. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 112 

For the mothers that weep, for the truth that is clear: 
Oil our loved temperance banner, long may it wave 
O'er the lands of the earth and the homes of the brave. 

Nor in lands far away need your long vision strain, 

For on Winterport's banks where the wild billows heaving, 

The robin and lark sing a cheerful refrain 

While the lords of the town are asleep or are dreaming; 

But the hard stuff is here tho 1 no markings are clear 

Of cross bones or bug death, which should plainly appear, 

Nor our loved temperance banner, oh long may it wave 

O'er the lands of the earth and the homes of the brave. 



AFTER THE FAIL. 
Air: After The Ball. 
A little shaver climbed a poor man's knee; 
Begged for a story do papa please 
Why we so wretched in this old shell? 
Why without money, say can you tell? 
I had a fortune, years, years ago, 
Why I am poor, pet, you soon shall know; 
List to the story, 111 tell the tale, 
Trust caused my downfall, caused me to fail. 

Chorus. 
After the fail is over, after the money's flown. 
After your credit's doubted, after the assets known, 
Many a heart is aching if you could read the tale, 
Many the hopes that have vanished after the fail. 

I was in business, bought and sold goods, 
Trusted to others as traders would; 
Money grew scarcer year after year, 
Those I had trusted did not appear; 
One day a letter came, it was a dun, 
Can't trust you longer, the letter run; 
One without money must shorten sail, 
Same as I had to after the fail. 

Cho. 

Merchants who trust out, nearing the brink. 
Printers trusting out are wasting ink; 



113 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Milkmen trusting milk will soon succomb, 
Though he should skim it and water some, 
Butchers and bakers, tin-knockers likewise, 
Who think to get rich will get a surprise; 
The ones who mistrust will have more avail, 
Everyone thinks so after the fail. 

Cho. 

HOSE COMPANIES, NOS. 1 AND 2. 

Air: Marseilles Hymn. June 1897* 
Ye lads of town, wake from your dreaming; 
Hark! hark! what cause bids you arise; 
The fire bells ring and sin; ke is streaming; 
Behold the tears and hear the cries; 
Behold the tears and hear the cries; 
Shall wicked flames our homes devouring, 
Our walls dissolve in one sad hour? 
To quench the flames is there no power? 
Who has this night our homes in keeping? 

Turn out, turn out brave lads, 

Ere fire gain by delay; 

March on, march on, bend on the hose, 

Let water freely play. 

Repeat four last lines for chorus. 

Come number one with your "Defender," 
And "Kelly Hose 11 your forces raise, 
For fire, tonight, is on a bender; 
We'll sing more loudly to your praise; 
We'll sing more loudly to your praise; 
Those hydrants tap, deep throated fountains; 
Wide span the hose with throbbing veins; 
Let torrents press to down the flames; 
Thy praise shall be beyond the counting. 

Turn out etc. 

Now darkness spans again the heavens; 
The fires have slunk in quick surprise, 
And peace dwells now within our bosoms; 
Our homes are here, not in the skies; 
Then dry those tears and wipe glad eyes; 
Our painted walls echo our greeting; 
No blacken ruin meets our view: 



* 







LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 116 

Though time and age, our hearts still new; 
With bounteous praise we trust the keeping. 

All hail! brave lads, all hail! 

No fires can stand your play; 

March on, march on to victory, 

We'll sing your roundelay. 

Repeat four last lines for chorus. 
Rest sweetly now we fear no danger; 
Our homes are guarded well from fire; 
The Kelly Hose and the Defender 
Will make it slumber in its ire; 
Will make it slumber in its ire; 
God bless our boys and make them noble; 
Make them to love their firesides well; 
Defenders of our hill and dell, 
From fire or any double trouble. 

,111 hail! brave lads, all hail! 

No fire can stand your play ; 

March on, march on to victory, 

We'll sing your roundelay. 

All hail etc, 



GOT IT IN THEIR EYE. 

Out backers and the villagers have cut an awful dash; 
And if not checked in their career the town will go to smash; 
They tapped the Low-brook fountain and turned it to the sky; 
And now we're dancing to the tune of root hog or die. 

Chorus. 

Hurrah, three cheers! most heartily they cheer: 
But look out for your jewels when they're twigging at your ear 
The whole confounded shooting match, the've got it in their 
eye; 

Big pig, little pig, root hog or die. 

What new arrivals yet to come to rankle and to vex, 
Were difficult as 'twere to tell where lightning will strike next; 
The churches are at loggerheads and others by the ears; 
Aud yet the town is neither dry of whiskey or of tears. 

Cho. 



117 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

They talk about improvements, and that's the proper view; 
If they don't o'er tax the many to benefit the few; 
To make one wallet very fat, a dozen very lean; 
Oh, there is where I draw the line and that's the chap I mean. 

Cho. 

Far too short is human life, the universe too big; 

Who wears a hat and walks two legs should emulate the pig; 

The world is big enough for all, and, as I older grow 

I wonder people don't do right and why they quarrel so. 

Oho. 

And those who practice what they preach and upright course 

pursue, 
Deserve the praise of all mankind because they are so few: 
And may the jewels of the just reward as is their due, 
And angels take them in their trust to light their journey 

through. 



GALOOTING AT THE WALDO COUNTY FAIR. 
It is raining, raining, raining, it is raining everywhere; 
When once started in to raining seems as if 'twould ne'er be 

fair: 
Thro' the summer all was drying and the grass was nearly 

dead; 
And the forests, too, were sighing, but no water could be shed, 
Now 'tis raining, raining, raining all is water overhead. 

And my frest girl, too, has left me and she's gone to Monroe 

Fair; 
And she's gone off with a fellow or perhaps I shouldn't care: 
And I hope that he'll get mellow and be ugly as a bear; 
And that he will get quite boozy till they have a fatal flare; 
And will have to walk to Frankfort and have no time to spare 

But if she's only with me I'd not care about the rain; 

For the sun would shine within me and fair weather all the 

same ; 
And if sunny all the summer without either rain or dew, 
Why that would all be honey with the moon a-poppiug through; 
Whether fair or cold or stormy, oh I never should be blue. 

A fellow can't be happy when his best girl is away; [stay; 

When she's with another fellow with the prospect that she'll 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 118 

Though its raining, raining, raining, still he'd never, never 

care, 
While his best girl is galooting at the Waldo County Fair; 
If the weather had been fairer, I would likewise have been 

there. 

Who would thought she'd gone off with him, with a fellow in 

the rain; 
But the fair is so bewitching they will most all do the same; 
I hope shell wet her bonnet and its beauty quite impair; 
Or he'd sit down square upon it and change its style a hair; 
So she'd be extremely sorry that she went to Monroe Fair. 

I will go and see the doctor for my heart begins to wane; 
He will give me something soothing and keep it from my 

brai-i: 
If it ever stops a raining I most solemnly declare, 
I will never stop for nothing, till I bust the Monroe Fair: 
Nothing else will stop galooting at the Waldo County Fair. 

Use last line of each stanza for chorus. 



SINCE THE BAND WENT DOWN. 
We'd not withhold our heartfelt praise, 

The good old times of the olden days, 
When Winterport had a royal band 

That drew them praise all o"er the land; 
Her music s charm inspired our feet; 

A thing of pride for the town and street. 

Since the band went down the ladies came in 

And started a band, horns made of tin 
The size of your thumb, and the zobos sing, 

Sixteen voiced through a grasshopper wing; 
And sweet they sing of a gone by day: 

Whatever they do, they've come to stay. 
Since the band went down there's another crop 

Raised in the fields with the sorrel top; 
One plays the harp and his n vtes are fine 

As the notes of a flute from the pumpkin vine; 
And the timely notes of the big bass horn 

Would start the grass on a barren lawn ! 



119 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Since the band went down their place to fill 
This band comes up from Pnmpkinville; 

Their beards are long and of ancient rate 

They get the cheers so ofcourse they're great; 

And the silvery tone of the sweet trombone 
Would crack the earth from zone to zone. 

To play tunes straight they laid no claim; 

To play tunes backward was their game; 
But they played as straight as any could do; 

To the cheering crowd they played back to ; 
But they ate their hash as others do; 

To pumpkin pie they stood face to. 






THE WIDOW AND THE BOYS. 

Some youngsters of a quiet town had planned to do the droll, 
They knew a widow handy by and thither they did stroll; 
The house was low, the roof was flat, no task to climb, you 

see: 
To nover o'er the chimney top, that's where the fun would be; 
The wild winds blew in cheerless notes upon the window pane; 
And loosened boards and unthached roof scant shelter from 

the rain; 
No sparkling embers on the hearth to give its ruddy cheer; 
Nor wardrobe warm in friendly grasp to check the falling tear. 

Cho. 
The tale is old. A kindly deed in sunshine bathes its own; 
The harvest is a bounteous yield; we reap what we have sown. 

"Oh thou who nofst. the sparrows fall and calmest the 

troubled sea, 
Who knowest the widow's needs, my hope; I trust in thee; v 
As fickle as the falling leaves, so youth, their daring fled; 
They listened to her words so brief and knew she prayed for 

bread : 
' There's kindness in the human heart as circumstance disclose, 
And, patent to a happy thought, one fellow did propose, 
And quickly brought two wheaten loaves all brown and sweet 

and new, 
And climbed up to the chimney top and dropped them down 

the flue. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 120 

Alarmed at first, so sudden came, and trembling in her fears; 

And poured aloud in thankful heart and mingled with her 
tears; 

Nor did her hunger give her haste, but first her thoughtful 
care 

To thank the Giver of all good in simple heartfelt prayer. 

A window barred the wretched scene, down low a shattered 
pane: 

An urchin placed his mouth within and thus he did declaim: 

"Those loaves we of the baker bought, and dropped them 
down the flue, 

So you shmild render thanks to those where thanks are just- 
ly due.** 

But boys are only boys at best that sometime will be men, 

That in the fuluess of their joys they fearfully offend; 

Nor think that fun is not true fun that brings another harm; 

That when they cause another pain that fun has lost its charm 

With heart as light as fleecy clouds that float in ambient air; 

Nor callous to the heavy yoke that's born of earthly care; 

The widow made a swift reply as bitterness had taught; 

•The Lord hath sent this bread I know, altho' the devil bro't. 



KINDERGARTEN. 

SUMMER OF 1903. 

Kindergarten pupils we; 

Blithe and merry as can be; 
First in town to sing its cheer; 

First to dance the pioneer. 
Where our school is, would you know? 

Down to Nealey's Studio; 
And the teacher we would name, 

Jessie Black of Searsport, Maine: 
And the names which now appear, 

Tells you who the pioneer: 
Elmer, Albion, Lyman B. 

Three feet high and all so wee; 
Donald, Newell, Frederick too ; 

Everett. Emmond, eyes of blue; 
Charles and Harlow; all fine boys; 

And they'll tell you of their joys: 



121 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

Morning birds are not more gay 

As off to school we trip away; 
Outside the room we bare our head, 

And hang our rubbers on a peg: 
And the girls are seven in all; 

Very young and very small; 
Join they also in the games 

And I'll tell their given names: 
Frances, Margaret and Charlotte, 

Addie, Alice, not forgot; 
Dorothy, Helen that is all; 

Very nice and very small; 
And the teacher s merry eye 

Greets us when the time draws nigh; 
Meets us smiling at the door; 

The little brood of most a score. 
First the teacher takes the lead, 

Then the pupils quick proceed, 
Through the games for fun we go; 

•'All the world's a stage, 11 you know: 
Then we dance and sing and play, 

Eat our lunch or give away; 
And our teacher's nice, you see, 

Most as nice as mothers be. 
Papa tells us with a smile 

That were learning all the while; 
And that as we older grow 

What a lot of things we'll know: 
Seems to me all play and fun; 

Just as leave noon wouldn't come; 
Papa says that work is play 

When you're happy all the day. 
Mother says it gives her rest; 

For her little ones the best; 
For a higher paves the way; 

Hopes the school has come to stay. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 124 



BECAUSE IT WAS PURE. 

SUPPOSED THOUGHTS OF A MAN IN PRISON WHO WAS EXECUT- 
ED AND AFTERWARDS PROVEN INNOCENT. 

There's a bright, sunny world just beyond this inclosure; 
Though chilly and damp is the touch of my cell: 
A sunbeam com u s in through the latticed exposure; 
And checkered the path where the shadows had fell; 
And a message it brings of the kindliest greeting; 
Imprisoned within as a treasure secure: 
Who knoweth the heart when with sorrow 'tis beating 
Hath sent me the sunbeam because it was pure. 

It brings to my mind all my sweet sunny childhood; 
And a dear mother's love where my bosom confessed; 
With never a thought that I uttered a falsehood; 
And showed me the pathway the smoothest and best; 
There I crooned with the bees that were gathering honey; 
The red apple bloom on their branches procure; 
And the violets blue from the hillside most sunny; 
My mother so loved them because they were pure. 

And the church going bell unlike any other; 

For it touches my heart and my bosom doth swell; 

And I hear in its tones the sweet voice of my mother; 

A beacon of hope and a sorrowful knell: 

It tells of the scenes that I best can remember; 

A haven of rest for the bond and the poor; 

It tells of the scenes most loving and tender; 

A message of love to the heart that is pure. 



I LIVE ON "EASY LANE." 
AlR; "THE tall young oyster man." 
I'm living now in "Easy Lane," I own the number one, 
I saved my pennies in my youth in the days of "easy come," 
Sometimes I wore a ragged suit, my wife likewise the same; 
'Twas then we lived on lowly street quite near to Shabby Lane. 

Cho. 
Fol de rol de rol de rol de ri do ; tune de rol de ray. 



125 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

And in the days of "easy come'* all did not do the same; 

For some commenced at number one and traveled down the lane ; 

They struggled with the u upper cuts" where life seemed swift 

and sweet, 
And quickly they would "lose their heads 1 ' and couldn't keep 
their feet. 

Oho. 
To"turnup Jack" there was no lack in this they gained renown; 
And if the Jack was apple-jack why then they turned it down; 
And so the days of ''easy-come*' slipped easily away; 
And this the treasure of old age, the poor-house and dismay. 

Cho. 
I meet those fellows every day who lived at Sadly-rue; 
And wish they had their money back and health come with 

it too ; 
And saved their pennies in their youth in days of "easy came 1 
Now they could own a number one and live on "Easy Lane. 11 

Cho. 
A "friend 11 I met from "Shabby-lane 11 he'd been upon a spree; 
He says I hear you're very flush, won't you divide with me? 
Now you've been flunk for many years and this was my reply, 
When I divide "tis with a man that's worth as much as I. 

Cho. 
If there s a moral to this song 'tis meant to tell the young 
To strike out for a higher grade, the downward course to shun; 
And save their pennies while they may and treasure up the 

same; 
And happy feet may walk the street that leads to Easy Lane. 

Clio. 
The youth who make the sad mistake to think they are not ripe, 
Unless they ape the older ones and monkey with a pipe; 
Should learn for them 'tis well to know to serve in kindly 

needs, 
That he can sooner be a man by doing noble deeds. 

Cho. 
And he will chant in happy songs who travel with the just, 
And in his might who deals aright and scoffs at sloth and rnst; 
Good fellowship his heart's delight, kind words the sweet re- 
frain ; 
The big band wagon he can ride that plies at "Easy Lane. 1 ' 

Cho. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 126 



THE COAL FIRE. 

All the fields were as gay as are lovers astray, 

And the sun went wooing all the day, the day; 

And the flowers leaned that way to the sun's bent ray, 

Same as fond lovers may, or as children at play; 

For 'twas soft summer time and the birds 1 merry chime 

Was wooing, was wooing all so tine, so fine: 

What is love, any way, who has got the heart to say, 

But a swift sunny ray that may change or pass away. 

We toasted o'er the grate, myself and deary mate, 

And the wild winds whistled thro 1 the chinks of the gate; 

Coals sparkled on the hearth, yielding all their treasured 

worth, 
That were wooing on the earth, ten thousand since their birth; 
Now returning to the sun what the wooing then had won, 
When the sun went wooing in the fields all the day; 
When the flowers leaned the way of the sun's bent ray; 
Like lovers, or children in freedom at their play; 

Our wooing days are o'er and our winnings are no more; 
Sitting in the shadows of the sunshine gone before; 
The embers swift undoing all the former years of wooing, 
Where the sun gave her hand a thousand years or more; 
And went wooing in the fields; to us her bounty yields; 
And we're living in the sunshine of the days of yore; 
What is love, any way, but a swift, sunny ray, 
That may bend with a cloud or swiftly pass away. 

There's a key to the earth where the coal treasures lie; 
Where the sun went wooing in the long gone by; 
Though the wild wind whistles thro' the chinks of the gate, 
The sunbeams are smiling thro' the open grate; 
And I think of the chime of the soft summer time, 
Of the days gone by and what pleasures were mine: 
Tho' the winds may whistle at an old-time rate, 
The sun seems a wooing thro' the bright open grate. 
Use last line of each stanza for chorus. 



127 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 






A DAYDREAM OF CHILDHOOD. 
Sadly sweet are the thoughts that restore me to childhood, 
That awaken the past like a fairylike dream; 
Again the soft skies invite to the wildwood, 
And again there's a voice from her musical stream^ 
They tell of the days that were long in their measure; 
And the ripple of life bubbling onward with glee; 
And a pure mother's love the dearest to treasure; 
And makes all my childhood seem sweeter to me: 

The stream ripples on to the arms of the ocean: 

My treasure is hid in the pitiless clay; 

The white marble tells of our transient devotion, 

And the flowers that we placed breathe a common decay: 

My knighthood of youth was a sky tinted treasure; 

My footsteps would hasten to traverse the way: 

The songs of the birds that thrilled me with pleasure; 

Now mingle with blasts that are sighing to day. 

The dreams of my youth were the dreams of a fairy 
Compared to the lights and the shadows that fell; 
As I battled on blindly, too hasty to tarry, 
Till the shadows grew long over hillside and dell; 
And the home of my youth is the home of the reaper; 
The brown tint of Autumn her luster has shed; 
The dews of the night weep over the sleeper 
Whose record is made and the last chapter read. 



^ Rd^er\Asemeii\,s.^ 



129 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



TEA ADVERTISEMENT. 
Twinkle, twinkle maiden's eye, 

Like a star in heaven high : 
Twinkle, twinkle, coy and shy, 

Flashing light as she goes by; 

Was't the diamond that she wore; 

Strove her eyes to brighten more? 
Sparkling diamonds, twinklirg eye, 

Strove each other to outvie? 

Was't the teacher on her way, 
Closed her school and got her pay, 

Cloak or bonnet or a dress. 

Captured eye that must invest? 

Now I wonder here below 

Why her eyes should twinkle so: 

Was't a lad that she did know? 
Flashed her eye upon her beau? 

Was't a lover she did spy 

Made the diamond in her eye? 

I will ask her, she doth know 

Though my cheek be blanched in woe. 

Bright eyed maiden, ere you go, 
Tell me why those eyes aglow? 
For such happiness of heart 
Doth defy the painter's art. 

"That is easy sir 1 ' said she, 

"Grandma sent to buy her tea, 

Go to Hussey's, his is best, 
His I've tried and all the rest; 

Rich to draw so strong yet mild, 
(As she spoke the maiden smiled) 

'Twould amuse you should yon see 
Grandma drink this splendid tea. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 130 

As she sips it you should know 

Grandma's eyes will twinkle so. 1 ' 
Twinkle so that named it we ; 

Kussey's famous twinkle tea. 11 

Thank you Miss for all you've said, 
Looks and words were closely wed. 

Twinkle as your eyes today, 

Heaven's brightest light your way : 

All with grandmas, fond of tea, 

Think of twinkle and of me; 
Their's will twinkle still more bright, 

Your's the more for borrowed light. 



TOWN ELECTION. MARCH 7, 1887. 
What's in the air? What's in the air? 
Its swelling sound is everywhere; 
It is election, foul or fair; 
We hear the parties fierce and bold 
Uproarous for a firmer hold 
L T pon a voters vote. 

What's in the air? Hark, I will tell; 

From morn "til night and night as well, 

Wherever man doth stand or dwell, 

A varied host their voices lend, 

"Up town ' down through the u tougher end; 

Election's in the air. 
They say that Dyer was in the daze, 
That BlaisdelTs hand was in the blaze," 
( The suit that does not suit all ways. ) 
l That Hardy hardly fills the bill 
And gets amiss to ply the quill," 

Election's in the air. 

And yet the thing s not wholly new; 
For three years past the air's been blue, 
"The way town funds had been put through. 
Then, as now, hot words engaged 
And Wardwell's wordy warfare raged. 
Election's in the air. 



131 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

We heard about the "Min. Hill note, 
Bonds passed without the usual vote; 
The seventeenth district 1 ' — another joke, 
We heard of this and vastly more; 
u The town books burned with Arey's store, 1 ' 
(They're in the air and are no more. ) 
Election's in the air. 

And thus the thing doth wax and grow 
Like hugh balls rolled from soft, damp snow, 
And large and larger is the show: 
Some silent, listen, barely nod, 
For fear that they may lose a job. 
Election's in the air. 

So me faint ones ask what they shall do, 
And say they're in an awful stew, 
"Shall we back down or put it through?" 
And, like the rider it would seem 
Would swap his horse midway the stream. 
Election's in the air. 



MARYS BEAU. JULY 22, 1896. 
That Mary had a little lamb 

Don't everybody know? 
But Mary had some other things 
Among them was a beau. 

And Mary was his sweetest "lamb 11 
tier neck was white as snow 

And everywhere that Mary went, 
His thoughts would surely go. 

And after he had lingered round 

And waited for a year, 
He thought he would propose to her 

To see how she'd "appear. 11 

"My dearest pet, my sweetest lamb, 1 ' 

He said in accents bold, 
"I'd gladly be your shepherd hence 

And take you to my fold." 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 132 

'Tis said all stories come to end 

When dawns the wedding day, 
And would that gossip tongue might cease 

When lambs go not astray. 

But folk did talk within the flock 

And gossips had their say, 
Then came around the butcher's son 

And took the lamb away. 

He took her fondly by the throat 

And savagely did grin, 
For he was very fond of lamb ; 

All "lamb" was lamb to him. 

I'd point my friends who love the truth 

To the moral of this lay; 
Believe not all of your concern 

That other people say. 

Nor is it always safe to change 

The friend that's proven true, . 
( Because he may not talk so glib) 

And swap him for a new, 

Another moral we would note. 

Apply it if you can; 
We slaughtered prices first of all 

But slaughtered not the "lamb." 

Now if you've any goods to buy, 

You'll find that it will pay 
( We sell all wool a yard in width) 

To call around this way. 

We punch your purchase on a card, 

Our profits fair and few; 
A splendid book is part reward; 

The pelt remains with you. 



133 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



WATER WORKS. 
A rainbow by moonlight expanding the skies 
Arrested my vision and great my surprise. 
A rainbow by moonlight in absence of showers. 
Is an unusual thing in this land of ours. 

I saw in the East as I gazed on once more, 
A beam of bright light from fair Italy's* shore, 
As it flashed through the mist and quivering still 
Reflected the standpipe on slaughterhouse hill. 

'Twas that which I saw, so easy mistook, 

The moon's silvery beams from Lowes pearly brook, 

And swift in its cadence I heard in its song 

The voice of out-backers go rolling along. 

The voice of the farmer most certain the sound; 

"The tax gatherer claimed all he could eke from the ground. 

The voters had voted the surplus away, 

Some voters owed taxes they never could pay. " 

They rushed to the polls being out of a job; 
One fifty per day to dig out the sod 
With shovel and pick-ax theyM quickly be blessed; 
They nhose a committee to do all the rest. 

How proud beats the heart of a patriot man 
As poor as Job's turkey, who works on the plan 
To buildup the town with improvements at will, 
And votes that another must settle the bill. 

Tho' the farmer may toil and his wife daily spin, 
There's a leak at the fountain, a hole in the bin, 
A leak of a thousand tho 1 he gather and sow 
To water the village from out of the Lowe. 

Shall we gather the moonbeams to make creamy cheese? 
Or ply At-the-woodst for cool shelter and ease? 
Can a stream leave its bank and Merrily t flow 
To water the hillside in spite of the Snow?t 

*The work was largely done by Dagos. 

t Atwoods were promoters of the Water Works. Merrills/ 
Snow, opposers. 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 134 

Is blood in a turnip? As a farmer would say, 
Or, use to chase rainbows for what it will pay? 
Tho' a thing of great beauty that captures the eye, 
Tho' its planted on earth and painted on high. 

They promised us wealth that would welcome our door; 
That factories would hum on our water- washed shore; 
But the moon looks askance with a silvery grin; 
And the rainbow I saw was a trifle too thin. 

Tho 1 silver be standard, protection pass by, 
Republicans losers and get a black eye, 
Tho' plunderers prosper and innocence sigh 
I still will look out for a bow in the sky. 

Be of good cheer. Look on the bright side half the time. 
Two mills additional tax on the dollar need not be oppressive 
and is lower at twelve mills than in most towns. Buy noth- 
ing you cannot pay for. Live within your means. Buy that 
which is serviceable and good. Buy where you can the 
cheapest and best and for cash and hard times won't bother 
but pass you by like a song, in one ear and out the other. 



INTERRUPTED COURTSHIP. 

'Twas morning's sweet and balmy hour when o'er the tufted 

sod 
With naked foot and honest heart, fair Eve supremely trod; 
No lady friend had she to love, no rival she to fear; 
And Adam stood a mortal man, erect without a peer. 



135 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 

The air breathed love, and perfume sweet from trees of flow- 
ering spice, 
And gaily robed in georgeous plumes the birds of Paradise: 
And sweetest songs in fearless glee trilled all the mellow air 
To serenade in nature's way the tirstand well-matched pair. 

The trees bent low with golden fruit their riches to declare, 
And bush and vine bowed with their sweets to make the spot 

more fair; 
The bread fruit hung in ponderous size from trunk and branch 

o'er head; 
What need had Eve to learn the art to manufacture bread? 

The milk-tree flowed a lavish stream adown the gurgling 

moat, 
What need had they to keep a cow or bother with a goat? 
The soap-tree showed its bulbuous roots above the flowery 

green, 
That those unskilled might have some soap to keep their bodies 

clean. 
The cataract came tumbling down and lashed to soapy spray, 
The smiling sun looked in upon where myriad rainbows play 
No more to play till wrath subside and anger turn to love; 
Till Noah shall take the olive branch that s tendered by the 

dove. 

As eve beheld the fruits and flowers and warbling birds sub- 
lime, 

Kissed by the breeze from lands and seas from every sunny 
ciime, 

She spi-d some fruit in clusters hung and plucked the same at 
will, 

And freely ate of what 'twas said that day would surely kill. 

Her blood flowed quicker in her veins and she to Adam flew, 
The fruit she ate had lent a charm, she saw the world anew; 
She threw her arms round Adams neck and kissed him once 

or twice, 
And gave a bunch for him to eat to see if they weren't nice. 

"Oh Eve! don't tempt me with this fruit, it is the kind forbid, 
For I've been told I must not eat, twould kill me if I did. 11 
Says Eve, "I saw the squirrels eat and carry to their store, 
I saw the birds feed to their young and quickly come for more; 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 136 

This fruit is charming to the taste, I ate without a fear. 
Now, Adam, take another look you see no microbes here: 
How fair this fruit to look upon, now Adam take a bite, 
Its sparkling jnice will stir your blood and hurt you not a 
mite. 1 

Then Adam of the fruit partook and wide his vision grew; 
A ray of knowledge lit his mind, he good from evil knew; 
And thanked her kindly in his heart, a pupil at her school; 
Had she not took an active part he still would been a fool. 

"Now Adam, we are naked both and I would like to know 
From what I see in nature round, why this thing is just so: 
I see the birds of paradise in georgeous plumes attire. 
In flounces, frills and furbelows in shades of living hre. 

I saw the squirrels in the path, as they went whisking by, 
Dressed out in furs as if to shield from rain or sunny sky; 
And e'en the lazy butterfly in wings and worm-like bust 
Was painted fine in lluted rows, in feathers tine as dust. ' 

Then Adam spoke and said to Eve, ,l How should I ever know 
Were you dressed up like crested birds in frill and furbelow, 
With shoulder puffs and flowing sleeve and bustle spanning 

wide. 
A top-knot hat extending high, that Eve was by my side? 

■Somehow I like you as you are, on dress we should agree.*" 
"Oh! how intensely practical, just like a man"' said she, 
"Today I saw the tailor bird with rig leaves did invest, 
With bill punches holes, with fiber sewed and made a lovely 
nest: 

And so may we. can we agree about the style you know, 
Sew leaves in rows and dress alike without the furbelow: 
'Twill keep the flies from bitting us and keep the skin from 

tan;'" 
And after they had talked awhile they settled on a plan. 

And so they made two flowing robes sewed fast with fiber 
string; 

Indeed they were a happy pair and loudly did they sing: 

And when they found their task complete, the labor of the 
day, 

They heard the gardener's footstep near and heard the gar- 
dener say. 



137 LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 



"What hast thou done? Why art thou clothed? Why did'st 

thou disobey?" 
As best she could Eve made reply (her beau had run away) 
"That long necked chap so slick and smooth who lives in 

brake and cane, 
Said 'twas a healthy fruit to eat, a feeder of the brain.' 1 

Then Eve broke down, oerwhelmed with grief, gave vent in 

sobs and tears, 
And that has been the strong defense of womankind for years. 
"Dry up your tears/ 1 the gardener said, "enough you'll have 

of pain, 
'Tis that young sneak who ran and hid should carry most the 

blame. 

" You were not told you must not eat, and well we knew 

you'd fall, 
If that intruder made a break, got o'er the garden wall; 
With all these beauteous things to tempt *tis difficult to make 
A hedge that's fine and high enough to stop the wily snake. 

As good and evil must exist and hold an even sway, 
Tis left for Adams race to learn the law he will obey; 
And since you criticise our art and wasteful hours beguile 
We leave dressmaking all to you and let you run the style. 

I'll leave the garden all untilled v> ithout the needed care, 

And thistles, thorns and weeds and grass will grow up every- 
where; 

And goats and herds will trample down and roam without a 
fear, 

And travelers who pass this way would not think Eden here; 

But all the fruits, vines, plants and roots, have got their little 
seeds, 

And birds shall scatter them afar to fill the nation's needs; 

And footsteps mine no longer heard about this hallowed place 

And Adam, if he lingers long, will wipe a sweaty face." 1 



Six thousand years have passed and gone since Adam wooed 

and won, 
And now his race has planted foot on all beneath the sun; 



LOCALISMS; RHYMES; SONGS. 138 

And Eden's fruitage, birds and flowers, in great luxurience 

grow 
In lands adapted to their growth, for the nations here below. 

And commerce lends her friendly aid by steam, by sea or rail, 
To take the surplus from the lands to others which may fail; 
And so we find in Winterport, this rock-bound coast of ours, 
The spice and fruits from sunny climes as if from Eden 
bowers. 

And when we see a lady pass in winter or in June, 
We know some bird of Paradise is minus of a plume. 
And when a man goes reeling by, uncertain in his gait, 
We're forced to think forbidden fruit most surely was the 
grape. 

From sunny skies and fairer lands, I briefly here would tell, 
Rare spice improved by careful growth, / keep these things 

to sell-, 
And patent flour, whose wheaten loaves none other doth 

excel, 
Since Eve plucked from the bread-fruit tree, the day that 

Adam fell. 

Now do not quote that I have said that Adam climbed at all, 
But bread made right from out this flour was never known to 

fall] 
The loaves so light and sweet and white, it is her greatest 

pride 
The cook with smiles can suit her guest and does not care to 

hide. 

And happy he who prizes health, as freely he partakes; 

And doth not say, "I ate a rock and dreamed all night of 

snakes." 
And soap we keep almost as good as that from u out the green' 
'Twill take the care from off the brow and keep the body 

clean. 

Tobaccos, too, of different grades, for smoking and the quid, 
If folks will fool their cash away on what should been forbid; 
Choice teas we keep, from Eden's land 'neath Oriental sun, 
A tonic to an o'er worked brain, to soothe the weary one. 

And coffees, too, the best that grow in East or Western land, 
Some think a breakfast is "no good" unless it is on hand; 



139 LOCALISMS; RHYMES: SONGS. 

And raisins, too, all fresh and new in layers stemmed or loose; 
"Beef, Wine and Iron," that's for the sick, or those who have 
a use. 

West India goods and crockery, for use and for display, 
And many things not luxuries now, but were in Adam's day; 
And kerosene to light the night lest some fall by the way; 
Could I give wisdom with the light, I'd do it without pay. 

In this case the tea was guaranteed while the "Interruption 1 ? 
was not guaran-tead. 



\> 



- 






